She's not to blame

By herself she walks,
the lonely streets,
no noise to be heard,
only her feet.

Hunting around,
for her next prey,
waiting silently,
until they come her way.

She suddenly spots,
a lonely man,
sitting on the curb,
drinking a can.

He’s a drunken soul,
that cannot be saved,
only one fate waits,
being put in a grave.

As she walks towards,
the drunken man,
her teeth start to grow,
into incredible fangs.

The man died slowly,
feeling much pain,
it's his fault really,
she’s not to blame.

Being immortal,
is hard in its way,
hunting all night,
and sleeping all day.

It's in her nature,
to hunt and kill,
and until she dies,
she always will.