Beware the vampire, be it one or ten;
It likes to feast on the blood of men.
Through moonlit shadows, their cold eyes gleam,
They haunt the night in a deathless dream.
Their whispers lure with a honeyed spell,
But in their embrace, you’ll find only hell.
Cursed to wander, no peace to gain,
Their hearts are bound by eternal pain.
With claws like knives and a hunger grim,
They’ll tear your soul from limb to limb.
In crypts where moonlight dares not creep,
They stir from coffins, roused from sleep.
Flee their gaze, so cold, so bright;
They’ll drain your life by morning’s light.
Yet some who flee are the ones to fear;
For I, your guide, have fangs, my dear.