Vampire

Vampire

In the coolness of the caverns
where the sunlight never shines,
in the shadows of the lanterns
as the midnight moon aligns.

Lonely, are the footsteps falling,
echoes sounding in the caves,
a vampire in the night is calling,
peasant victims for his slaves.

His hunger is insatiable,
and he's never satisfied
with acts that are deplorable,
in a feast of homicide.

So when the blood is flowing thick
and the world turns tinted red,
he'll give the wound another lick,
til' the final drop is bled.

When staring at the moonlit blood
crimson turns to inky black
and human carnage is the flood
in a brutal blood attack.

Five hundred years he's lived to kill
from the caves of blood and stone,
an immortal with an iron will
draining victims to the bone.

Now even evil has it's end
as daylight's growing dim,
a stake of wood right through his heart
will be the end of him.

The sun will set and rise at dawn,
so ends the chilling lore,
a vampire's final breath is drawn,
and the blood will flow, no more.

© Copyright 2007 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
T.L.Finch has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.