His First Kiss

Oh cruel fate, that bids me now to tell

Of vampire's first taste, a story fell,

Of blood and lust and hunger's fierce desire,

And pain and joy, all mingled in one fire.

A creature new, born from the grave's embrace,

With eyes that gleam with unearthly grace,

And teeth as sharp as any sword or knife,

He sets upon his prey, to claim its life.

And as he bites, his senses come alive,

Each drop of blood is a gift that he'll survive,

The pain and pleasure mingling on his tongue,

Like sweetest nectar, from the gods among.

He drinks and drinks until the last drop's gone,

And all that's left is but an empty pawn,

A shell that once contained a human soul,

Now left to wither, empty, cold, and old.

And yet the vampire, sated for a time,

Still, thirsts for more, as if he's in his prime,

For the blood is life, and life is all he seeks,

A hunger that no mortal ever speaks.

So let us ponder on this tale so dark,

Of vampire's first taste, a deadly mark,

And pray that we shall never fall in thrall,

To such a beast, that feeds upon us all.