No Reflection

 

                                 No Reflection

 

They walk alone like dark cold stones thrown beneath the graves.

A feast they seek of blood in vein to quench the lust they feel. 

To smother the fire, scratch an itch, you might say,

They hunt for a perfect 98.6. 

Like meat for man the feast is best

When stored in the human breast. 

Eyes red as crimson, teeth sharp as razors

They convince themselves they’re doing us a favor. 

They suck their fill and leave a shell of bones to go to hell. 

No satisfaction ever gotten

Just one more rotten corpse for a chompin’. 

When eye-to-eye they crave for just one more,

A curse handed down from the grave. 

If they only could see what they have become,

They might take a step back in time. 

But a mirror-less image is what they reflect

And will never realize their own crimes.

Author's Note

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