Bitter Memories

It comes with the moon, biting
Deep within, dragging its claws
Along fragile flesh, nothing remains.
Well, nothing save for a rag doll
Of dreams left wanton. The hunger
Crushes all within the path of such
A great beast, as it moves through
The darkness, hiding behind trees.
What pushes on, dwelling deep within
To leave such a pallid complexion
Upon the faces it hushes! The need
To feed this insatiable quench for blood,
The urgency to continue on, night after
Night until that one does come along
To end the suffering of this hatred
Which feeds upon the soul. Broken dreams
And lost memories faded with centuries of
Hunger pangs that make one cringe at the
Sight of such beauty, that which is the night.

(c) 2003 A Riddle