The mist encases whilst the nightmare chases...


2. dracula

The white bone scrapes the skin,

A carnal longing deep within,

Its in his nature,

He has no choice,

He sucks the blood from girls and boys.

The red substance,

So warm and thick,

Runs from innocent little necks and into his awaiting lips.

Would one be scared,

If he came in the night,

Some say that he is quite a sight.

Others declare he is rather dashing,

Long black cape and dark eyes flashing.

They call him the Count,

Of what, no one knows,

He may choose you,

So stay on your toes.

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