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Do Not Be The Last -a vampire's tale-
In a land of old man yore,
A magic lived like that of lore.
A maiden walking down the trail,
Is where I begin this tale.
An ageless look upon her face,
No one left from her mystic race.
Her heart it beat, so pure and true,
The kingdom that she traveled through.
As she moved her heart went low,
Knowing not how far to go.
The gift from the gods it had been sent,
A jewel of old, with no decent.
The sun set low upon the hill,
Fear and dread her heart did fill.
As darkness shone upon her path,
The mystic creature was hell’s wrath.
In sunset’s eye she twists and turns,
Fighting back her horrid urge.
Gripping cold and hardened stone,
The pulse retreated with her moans.
The rock did shimmer and glow with light.
Now that she had it, end with it her fight.
A curse was laid when old was new.
“When last of race is only true,
Your night is captured with unholy lust,
All your heart is turned to dust.
The devil will grip and wring your soul...
Do not be the last, my young and whole.
A stone of blood red needs only encounter,
The red liquid that is needed will then be over.”
She remembers the words and smile is spread,
She pockets the stone and her lust is forever fed.
Points of white emerge from her lips,
A Vampire descends into night’s white mist.
Do Not Be The Last -a vampire's tale-
In a land of old man yore,
A magic lived like that of lore.
A maiden walking down the trail,
Is where I begin this tale.
An ageless look upon her face,
No one left from her mystic race.
Her heart it beat, so pure and true,
The kingdom that she traveled through.
As she moved her heart went low,
Knowing not how far to go.
The gift from the gods it had been sent,
A jewel of old, with no decent.
The sun set low upon the hill,
Fear and dread her heart did fill.
As darkness shone upon her path,
The mystic creature was hell’s wrath.
In sunset’s eye she twists and turns,
Fighting back her horrid urge.
Gripping cold and hardened stone,
The pulse retreated with her moans.
The rock did shimmer and glow with light.
Now that she had it, end with it her fight.
A curse was laid when old was new.
“When last of race is only true,
Your night is captured with unholy lust,
All your heart is turned to dust.
The devil will grip and wring your soul...
Do not be the last, my young and whole.
A stone of blood red needs only encounter,
The red liquid that is needed will then be over.”
She remembers the words and smile is spread,
She pockets the stone and her lust is forever fed.
Points of white emerge from her lips,
A Vampire descends into night’s white mist.
