Vampire

          It's an ancient lifeless corpse wandering the streets a' nights.
          It's passion grows upon what it does not possess.
          Thus it reaches out takes and feeds but remains yet a living death.

      Love is what it might contain, hidden in the cynical rusted mind.
      Through years and years it wandered resisting any god.
      Except it's origin mother and father, which are worshipped by the ancients

I watch it as it passes.
Don't dare to intervene nor to address it.
And it wanders ever once more.
 19-10-2001