As darkness eats away the light,
as birds falls asleep and bats takes flight,
Together with them, those without breath will arise,
gasping for the air that can't fill them with life.
Crawling out from unknown tombs and graves,
stumbling out from cellars and caves.
Slaves of the light,
kings of the night,
always feel the desire and demand to bite.
Unimaginable strength and also their speed,
nothing stopping them, nothing making them concede.
With the moon as their witness they take the unknown,
until they can't scream and not even moan.
Silent most are, but never unsaid,
they are those who once were dead.
Hate for the living, but need for them still,
filling their soul's with the need to kill.
These undead known as the Royals of dark,
known as vampires, or Those without Spark,
will hunt for that they have been denied;
a life to savor, the pain of those who died.
A life for an eternity in exchange for the joy of being alive?
Is it really worth the thrive?