infamous poet

Vulcano

The most horrendous of all appearances
Wandering through the narrow lanes
Hiding his face behind the shadows
Alone, without any witnesses on your side
Looking for unhappy soul
To quench his thirst for blood
The lady of the night can be your next victim
After all no one cares for her

Poor madame of harlots
Better not have left home tonight
That knife in the moonlight glistens in a
Silvery color, gently cuts that pale neck
Jus a cold cut
Then heated by the blood flowing
Amongo those beatiful pale breasts
Her body fainting in his arms

Can still see the last
Blue glow of her eyes
Why? Asked himself, giving her
A sweet kiss on the lips