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The air is hot and heavy on her breath
And quick, short, sharp pains run along her chest.
Her eyes stare blankly at the scene ahead.
A stick impaled her heart and now she’s dead.
The medical examiners go;
Not knowing, inside her, blood still flows.
Heart carries on pumping,
But her wrists and throat, no thumping.
Lips are full and tasty
Of vitality, but deadly.
Eternity is hers to keep.
She dreams of it in daytime sleep,
The night is hers; she takes it on,
Drinks from souls and then she’s gone.
She will live forever on,
The Lady of the Night. |
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