I look into the mirror and what do I see?
A wilted old face gawking right back at me.
His eyes are rimmed and his fangs are long
his body’s inert and his soul’s forever gone.
Out in black alleys, he stalks by night;
Threatening all with his life-snatching bite.
He waits in the shadows for a victim to come,
by the time the guard has arrived,
his work there is done.
With his veins throbbing blue and his lips strung wet,
he leaves the scene where the somberness has set.
Back in his tomb where he finds his retire,
he muses the next night
that will belong to the vampire . . .
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