So, begins this poems impending doom.
The lines lead down the sheet,
Until they achieve a state of complete.
Each letter is sent on a voyage with no
Return trip. A one-time verbal show
Once the curtain lifts. The engagement
Requires no form of prior arrangement.
Each stanza consumes this black ink,
The vampire page shall fully drink.
The rhythm screams to live,
No hope can the meter give.
There is nothing that can save –
No prayer or knelling devotion,
No elixir or magic potion –
Words, from the inevitable grave.
Composed By: Andrew Drucker
