Why is it, that fate is so fickle?
That i should be dealt the hand of eternity, trapped by my stone being,
Suffering to my longings,
And yet, happiness and a deep satisfaction, and a sense of victory accompany my immortality?
That i should be so lucky, as to have gained what i so longed for,
While the human male's i competed with, should have to dwell in envy?
That "she" should choose me, a monster by all who know my legends,
And spurn the advances of those suitors who are suited to herself?
Who can hold her, touch her, kiss her, warm her, comfort her,
Without their thirst, ever present in mind, threatening to swamp her?
Immortality came at a price, and one i was not willing to pay, but...
She is worth it. And i would pay my soul a thousand times over, nay, a hundred thousand! Just to be able to hold her, to warm her, to kiss her.
Ah, the irony of love!
Envy sparks my human opponents, envy over my love,
While envy flares within me, heavy with fury, over their soft warm skin, their blood, their beating heart...
It compares to naught. Because she chose me.
