A Hymn to the Vampire of Angel City

A poem constructed out of a fictional universe, concerning a killer with a lot of blood, and time, on her hands

She was a song when she did it

Their lives dripping from her fingers

Their words a steady hum in her throat,

As she replayed her own suffering in the cameras of their eyes

And every time she thought she healed.



And no one wondered why she smiled, (or if she was coming for them)

but it should be asked how such an ugly thing could come out of such a beautiful nightmare

a deft, writhing masterpiece

that she committed any time her mind
felt the itch