They are the undead
A species of bloodsuckers
Banished from the sanctity of heaven

They are souls lost to the blackness of vile imagination
Where dreams of happiness go beyond the core of evil intentions

They are the unliving
A race of inhumans
Punished by God
To rot in the darkness of Hell
They seek lies in truth
And speak words not fit to be heard
They profane the name of the Almighty
And blasphemies humanity

They exist
In the mind of Satan
And sleep in dreams of sorrows
Disfiguring those
Who dare mercy
And offer salvation
To the brothers of a better cause

They are monsters
Bat like beasts
Who feast
On the joys
Of human kindness

Vampires
They rule our dreams
Awakening them in the blackness of the moonlit sky
Their wings sprout cloak-like
As they soar through the skies
Seeking blood from the innocent

It is the blood of their salvation
Deep red they crave it
Their species depends on it
Not as nourishment
But as a measure of purpose
For it is human blood that brings adoration
And they must rejoice in its propriety