Cry Of The Vampire
His bed is hard and very cold,
It's dark where he must sleep,
He has no lover whom he can hold,
And if he could - he'd weep!
His teeth are white and razor sharp,
And ramrod straight his back,
In darkness he is hard to see
Because he's dressed in black.
He has no friend for he is shunned
And left alone by all,
A dusty ruin is his home
Where worms and spiders crawl.
Condemned to walk the earth at night
And rest all through the day,
Though many share his cold embrace,
There's none who want to stay.
© 2001 Fay Herridge
Published in Miss Lucy Westenra Society Newsletter, Oct 1994
Fayz World *** Poetry
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