The Vampires Regret

T

He who came from blood and sweat,
lives for morn but always torn
between light and death.

Heart beats nomore,
but love still flows.

Lay me down under the stone,
engraved with who I once was,
but never again.

Will you miss me when I have flown?

You keep returning to my stone,
yet no breath will I choke,
for all I breath is dirt.

I regret my death.

You wonder if the vampire
regrets its strife,
as if they relive their sins
for the rest of their eternal life.

 

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton

This poem is part of my collection “Vampires Drink Bloody Poetry”.

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