by Nick Gisburne
The cave is bleak, a hovel in the mud
A rainstorm makes its misery complete
She hungers for the earthy taste of blood
Her milk is far too clean, too pure, too sweet
In longing for the comfort of a mate
Her base, vampiric instincts were dismissed
And this, she knows, is punishment, her fate
The child is cursed, forbidden to exist
Two worlds, two sides of evil, cast them out
For neither has the stomach, not for this
A half-breed, to the ignorant devout
Should perish in the infinite abyss
It cries, a craving far beyond its age
And pokes a tiny finger through the cage
