Sonnet Sunday's: Alive

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 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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