Poetic Darkness

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Vampyral
 
Creeps the night, void of Light, so begins
     the search of mine
     unholy delight;
Search in hope to pierce new skin, and
     fill thou empty with
     mine sin.
 
In silent stealth, creapt the The Raven, each
     whose desires are of
     the craven;
We pass cascades of midnights darkest, even
     in these we have
     no haven.
 
To the home, young princess sleeping, maiden
    virgin, could be no more
    than nine;
As here she lies now for my drinking, for 'pon
     her neck 'tis where
     I'll dine.
 
And fill her lacking now with wishes, she'll
     not understand but
     must fulfill;
For she is now of the Chosen, and to survive
     must nightly
     kill.
 
In another sense, survive it's not, void of
     life in fact, death
     in existence;
Wandering infinite in finite pieces, from which
     there rests no
      repentence.
 
And shall her Spirit then be stolen, placed in
     a hole with no front back
     or side;
And with other spirits lost in time, will she with
     these forever
     reside?
 
But ah, with twilight comes the dawning as the
     midnight has come
     to pass;
So unto the caverns of mine keeping, until sweet
     dusk returns,
     alas.
 

www.cnn.com

Here's a link to the site of the company I work for:

www.trellix.com

Here's a link to a friend's site:

www.myfriend.com