The Shape-Shifter

I am a shape-shifter at Poe’s Masquerade.

I am Red Death,

I am a femme fatale,

The resurrected vampire of legends.

With my pale skin blooming like pearls beneath my black attire,

With my luscious red lips whispering your name from underneath my thin veil,

I will lure you

Into eternal death.

I am Death personified.

In legends of yore, I am the nemesis of men.

Men who think they can burn the world with their swords,

Men who ravage the world and leave destruction behind,

For no good reason but for they can.

I am a gullible young virgin, an easy prey,

I am Death.

I tread grounds that bar my presence,

I torment men in their feverish dreams.

I am a dreamer.

I dream rapturously

Of poetry, and love and lush green meadows

And lust.

Soul-weakening, stomach-churning lust.

I crave for life,

breathing, burning life.

I am desire.

I arouse fancy, I evoke fantasy, I awaken lust.

I am desire and

I am Death.

I do not submit with lowered gaze, but I scream

In pleasure and pain alike.

I do not know silence.

And in the roar of my voice, the world crumbles down.

So beware, for I come for you.

I come for you in beguiling shapes,

I hide underneath dresses,

Flowers, corsets, and corsages

I hide in nakedness and under veils.

Beware, for you will never know.

And when I come for you

Do not feign innocence.

I fight only on the battleground you made,

I am no huntress for you are no fawn.

And wait.

Wait and watch your gallant courage shriek in fear

When your sword meets with the sword.