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Slave To The Night

Poetry By: Celsius

About the immortal life of a vampire

Submitted:Mar 21, 2013    Reads: 17    Comments: 1    Likes: 2   

These tormenting memories are never ending inside my head

my heart, once like a beautiful garden, has become a wasteland

my spirit, once so full of life, happy, and free

is now confined and dead

My love you have long since gone

taken by an eternal rest

you have left me here alone to face the awful things I have done

but your memory is a red rose in my wasteland of a heart

the only thing that is untouched by my own corruption

for now, we remain apart

I have become the very evil I used to fight

immortal, I am enslaved to the night

I am not human, I'm not me

a lust for souls and a raging hunger for blood feed an outer shell of someone I used to be

Images of the tortured lives I have taken remain here still

haunting me, enticing, inviting me to join them where they wait for me on the other side of the hill

Should I stay in the darkness which keeps me invincible, immortal, undead but not alive?

I'll wage war and meet with the souls in the light of the sun

I'll defeat the demon that I have become

I'll do right all the wrong I have done

And when the shell that is me turns to dust in the morning's light

no longer will I be a slave to the night


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