We are not the living,
Nor we, the dead,
Upon the mortal we have fed.
With fluid cloaks of silken night,
We hunt our prey where foe is light,
And wandering through mists of gloom,
In the dimming silence, we there loom,
With razor teeth, we are blessed,
We have not lived,
Yet, we see death.
Nor we, the dead,
Upon the mortal we have fed.
With fluid cloaks of silken night,
We hunt our prey where foe is light,
And wandering through mists of gloom,
In the dimming silence, we there loom,
With razor teeth, we are blessed,
We have not lived,
Yet, we see death.

Post a Comment
Be the first to comment on this article!