I am a creature with a lost,tormented soul.
My heart is a cold,callous empty vessel.
A river of torturous,bloody thoughts
run swiftly through the deep,
dark river of my mind.
There is an evil lust for blood
that incessantly drives me on.
My home is a cold,crypt under the willows.
The stench of a thousand years of death
my only neighbor.
I come eerily alive when the blood red sun sets,
and the silvery full moon rises over
the silent bayous of New Orleans.
Though I try nothing can quench
this terrible thirst for warm,human blood
that overcomes me.
So in the darkness of night I must constantly
stalk the living and take what is not rightly mine.
For I am but a poor misguided soul
that you might know as a vampyre.
Donavon Scott Vinson
