Changling

You left as a man,
and returned as a beast.
Sometimes your fur's soft;
sometimes your claws come out.
I don't recognize your pupils,
as they've transformed from orbs
to slits.


You left your soul in the desert,
and brought back a dead man.
He does not see,
but he consumes.
He does not hear,
but he spits out acid.
He does not feel,
except for a bloody, explosive rage.

I can't rely on my mine-detector,
and I fear losing limbs.
So save me the trouble of asking,
and tell me:
Are you back?