Thoughts of a Loner.

21st Floor. (By Sapphirus)

He took and took,
Confiscating everything,
His soul worn out,
Out of eons and centuries of labour,
His dark eyes lachrymose and weary,
Weary as his soul,
Yet jaded and jinxed,
Jaded with envy for the lively,
Envy for those who die,
Envy for those who fall in love,
Imprisoned,
Greedy for warmth unlike any other,
Warmth rejected by his eternal duty,
The darkness his vigil,
The darkness his solitude,
As he hunted every night,
Every night daunting,
Lurking in the dark,
His crimson eyes searching,
Searching endlessly from beyond the dark,
Searching for his next prey,
Searching for his next valour,
Searching for the soul for redemption,
Felon to his very own being,
Tainted,
Corrupt with the odour of the death,
Odour bitter and toxin,
Yet he longed solace,
A blade tucked away in his pocket,
More of his soul than himself,
Blade awaiting the taste,
Fresh blossom of crimson pool,
River of Styx his soul.

He took and took,
Confiscating everything in sight,
His grinning smile wide,
Eerie and cold,
Scarred face,
Scarred by karma,
And fangs sharp as the crescent Moon,
Staring,
Staring vividly at his next prey,
A lady so lovely,
Gorgeous as the day,
Her hairs golden as the sunlight,
Skin fairer than snow itself,
Lush curves as timepiece tucked,
His tongue gliding over his bare fangs,
Hungry,
As he gripped his blade,
Tighter and tighter,
As he stood outside,
Cloudy hue cascading his back,
Painting a scenery of storm within,
Vivid and thundering,
As he stood,
Outside her puny apartment window,
On the 21st floor.

He took and took,
Confiscating everything in his sight,
Even this young blossoming soul,
As the Damsel shrieked in amid horror,
Her wail fading into his being and darkness,
His eyes ruthless as the blade slit her throat,
Painting a beautiful crimson pool,
As he watched,
Watched her squirm,
Watched her struggle,
Struggle as every ounce of oxygen left,
Watched her finally free,
It was his eternal duty,
He thought,
His golden honour,
His cleansing sin,
A notorious sybarite,
Grimm was he,
Bounded by the heavenly laws,
Shackles of misery forged on his being,
Heavier than any pain.

Death,
Death,
Death,
He smiled.

~ Sapphirus