The dark resides within him
and darkness was his throne.
Upon the life itself he fed -
the blood and flesh of living.
With whisper and in solitude
he catched his scared victims.
He laughed the cross and holy word
to scorn and empty rustles.
His only wish - the massacre.
His only child - the undead.
I forsake thee, darken child!
In His name be banished!
Kalin Toshkov Staikov, 2008 ©
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