His diaphanous face shines in the moonlight,
His exposition of the moonlight so gentle,
But clearly stating his fixation.
The noisome scent of human blood,
makes him stiffen in his outmoded clothing.
He relaxes as his hungry fangs penetrate the skin,
He falls back into a reverie.
His seemingly endless perfection,
Becomes the subject of his hatred.
The crimson liquid he so adores,
Breaks him down into nothing more than another teenager to the human eye.
