One pinch of blood is all they need, to come visit you at night while everyone sleeps.
Your slow death is the beauty they've always seek,
They watch their meat huddle together like sheep.
They can advert your eyes and control what you see,
Masking the fleshy surprises of what they eat.
Every drop of blood they intend to keep,
Never stare them in the eyes, less you wish to see the teeth.
That reveals the flaw, along with the elongated jaw.
Which seems to stretch back a monstrous grin through the seeming fog.
It will flash its yellow eyes, faster then the brain can form a thought.
As you become lost in this sudden gaze, your bodies motor skills are brought to halt.
Holding you in the chill of fear in your spine,
To call them beastly is to severely undermine.
Ghastly creatures summoned once we attempt to jump ahead of time,
Fate has its meanings and it would be best to stay in line.
Born from darkness of the minds deepest depth,
Despite your intentions it's here to ensure your timely death.
Only the dead rest and they're here for the chase, summoned from a much needed slumber, your true intentions are seen as a waste.
For you are waste, and whiny like a child, speak of good and they're nauseated, for only words of wisdom makes them smile.
Speak only of knowledge and the nothingness of it's origin, or be consumed out of it's rage and forced to be reborn again.
Forced to endure the vile smell of it's essence, strategic monitored quarantine is your only exit. Truthfully for now it's our only weapon, also revealing to others with proof of their existing deceptions.
