Thirst
I look up,
the bright lights,
how they burn.
I hear the word "freak."
It fills me with darkness. I love that name. I see a victim. I slowly go towards it. It starts to run. I chase it with only one thing in mind. I must have it's blood. The prey becomes tired. I catch up and sink my fangs into its' arm. My thirst goes away. I rise only to see the sun. I begin to run. It follows me. My fangs still drip blood and it leaves a trail. I find shade and hide. The the night comes. I get thirsty...
Gothic Dragon
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Angst poetry
Before i was filled with anger
Tales from the Goths of the Earth