I laugh at your pain,
it pleasures me to,
I know I'm perfectly insane,
Temptation to mess with your mind,
Isn't far behind,
As I look upon your dying face,
You see clearly now I'm no angel fallen from grace,
Yet your tortured eyes still hold so much desire,
I trace the hollow of your face with pale fingertips,
I plant a kiss on your still bloody lips,
The taste still lingers,
The stake I prize from your cold fingers,
Did you really think that toothpick of wood would keep me contained?
And walk away for all eternity,
Satisfied with your sweet innocent blood I have drained.
