Enemies at the door
A silver swung sword
Moving to it's master's accord
Vampire's galore
Turned to dust without gore
The hunter gets stabbed
Sunglasses hit the floor
Blade let's out a thunderous roar
Looking tough
He finally looks up
Gives a smirk
It's time to go to work
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: November 5th, 2022 06:43
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
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