Attempted Poetry by Andre Michael Pietroschek - HTML preview
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Vampirehunter - Fates worse than Death
Vampirehunter - Fates worse than
Death; Variant 3
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights
reserved
Enervating city-life clad in pseudo-occult symbolism...
At night streets of every city
have become hunting grounds of sorts
For the camouflaged vampires only
let us live as prey for their sports
From old, Carpathian nobility to deceptively modern elite-universities
Fangs, thirsty for blood, clawing
us down due our dark dependencies
'Oh that just has to be symbolic, oh my God, or they do not even exist'
Craven smartmouthing, while
another needed person dreads to resist
Still plenty of us, daringly, decided to bring the monsters to the stake
While faith and science waste time
accusing each other to be a fake
Mortals can't debate-away poverty, nor can one simply shoot it dead
Demon Drink, too, is a fierce
fiend, so the lost souls enjoy it instead
Wrath, born from an injustice faced, or loyalty to our ancestral line
We've sacrificed normalcy, to
become avengers of undeserving kine
Nocturnal cold-war best unmentioned, we're sure just deluded fools
Withering, trapped in dutiful
routine, as we played by their evil rules
And in this weird line of duty there is a dark truth we all risk to find
If vampires can't kill us they
turn us into their own, bloodbound kind
So, like a knight during holy vigil, I focus my strength & fortitude anew
To remember whom I shielded why,
and what far-gone monsters I slew
If I'm not slain, nor brutally converted, then I keep it going on and on
This is like maintenance, not just
a movie war which can be easily won
A part-time vigilante, worried father, plus a man of duty, and regrets
The fiercest vampiric drain I know
is what doubtful hesitation begets