Vampires long for the pearly light
yet are afraid of its sizzling caresses.
Their living is an irony
dead hearts stammer in walking corpses memories.
As minds decay fangs crave to taste running blood.
Immortal corpses become monstrous
while cold skin grows more ethereal;
too stunning for mirrors to portray
too barbaric for mirrors to sketch.
The maddening darkness claims them for good
for if they dared to escape
and fight the beckoning night
the pearly light will scold with blisters
choking vampires on their own ashes.