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|This is a poem about a vampire who has lived for some time and is getting bored with the lifestyle.||
Millennia have crumbled and yet I stand unblemished.
My clothes and face, time hath not yet tarnished.
Walking the thin line between indifference and care,
Dead and dusty, yet alive and most fair.
The hunter and the hunted, in me, all is one.
Rising with the moon when the mortal day is done.
Dancing with the ladies, charmed in the blink of an eye,
Knowing not I will drain them, as they step with me outside.
A world alive in blood, for the taking it is mine,
For a wolf in sheep’s clothing, no obstacle is time.
The twittering ladies bore me; too many I have dated,
Still I hunger, even when my thirst for blood is sated.
Through the day I sleep, but yet wake as tired as the dead,
And the memories come crowding like a blood clot in my head.
I am sick of being a vampire; every hour is a test,
And now my only hunger is for eternal sleep…
… and rest.
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