Sonnet Sunday's: Alive
All alone in the velvet night,
I prey upon the earth’s
meager
Most of them go down
with a fight
While few are willing
and eager
Perfect white fangs
puncture their neck,
To expose blood so pure
and fine
Their death, a reality
check,
Making what was once
theirs all mine
Their lifeless bodies
fall limp,
Eternal life is what I
strive
Be it mom, child,
hooker, or pimp,
Their precious blood
keeps me alive

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