THE CURSE REVERSE

It’s that time again, when the moon grows full.
My teeth tingle slightly, as my mouth starts to drool.
My arms itch, as fur starts to sprout.
Keeping control is something I doubt.
I shudder as my body pulsates with pain,
And I think of my visit to the gypsy again.

She sat in a tent, looking into a ball.
For the right price she would tell me all.
I sat down beside her, as she began to speak.
She told me the cure, in a voice that was weak.
The eye of a newt, the bark of a tree,
A blue earthworm, and a dead cat’s knee.
I refused to take it in bitter disgust,
But she raved profusely, “Eat it you must!”
So I gobbled it up, while holding my nose,
She laughed and cackled, as slowly she rose.

She said I was cured, but she was not right.
I lost one curse, and gained another that night.
No longer a werewolf would I ever be,
For I was now cured of that misery.

Want to see something strange?
You’d better look now.
Look and you’ll see,
The world’s first werecow.

I don't do a lot of poems. This is the only one that I have liked enough to save.
Wrote it when I was a senior in high school, back in 1993.