I call myself a huntress,
I hunt but, not the usual game,
Oh, no ten point buck or ordinary
Fox will or sedate my hunger for the hunt,
I call myself a huntress,
I hunt but not with any form
Of weaponry know to many humans.
No shutgun or bow or quiver of arrows are
To be slung over my back when I hunt for my prey,
I call myself a huntress,
I prefer the night as opposed to
The day light hours to hunt or to even
Stay conscience for that matter,
I call myself a huntress,
I look like any other average
Young adult does in this score of years,
Flames of red hair, and green emeralds that look
like as if a star from the sky might be contained inside them,
I call myself a huntress,
By now you ask why,
I call myself a huntress,
For I feed, strive, live and hunt for
Human blood,
I have seen your past present
And the future become the past many a
Times,
For a little over a centry I have loomed
And lurked the dark dingy alley ways of the world.
Each night searching for the most purest, most innoccent
Human, so I might turn them into a cold, lifeless corpse,
I yurn to sink my teeth, sharp as ravors,
Into the young does' small neck, peircing so
Carefully into her flesh into her gently pulsating
Vein. Her short life falling into my minds eye flipping
Like a flip book, while her delicous coppery life force flows
Into my greedy black heart,
I drop her corpse onto the cold cement,
Like a rag doll, while I bask in the sweet ecstacy
Of her innoceent blood mixing with my dark damned
Blood. Warmth filling my marble like limbs,
The hunt is the one thing I love about the hunt,
Besides the beloved blood. Following them the sent
Of their fear filling my gut with a sence of urgancy,
Grabbing them, no struggle,SLEEP MY FAIR ONE,
Holding them in my death like grasp, draining the blood
From their dying heart, from their brain that holds all their knowledge.
I live for the hunt, and I love it!
I kill for the blood and I love it!