The Dracula
The Dracula
With the drip of ink,
You raise from my coffin of the past.
While I touch you, my memories get scanned.
It pains a lot as you feast on me,
I bled with memory as my soul splits up.
With part of my soul,
You become immortal,
Buried in the beautiful white paper.
Every day and night,
I guard you against the light.
Sleep quietly in your coffin
As I drip my soul every night.
You being a cursed soul,
Where others of your origin,
Gets a chance to visit the world.
You destined, to be buried in
The white coffin, with me as
Your undertaker.
You may get liberated by someone
After my death.
If I fail to do your cremation,
Ensure that you don't pass the pain
With stained blood of mine.
Teach them a lesson,
How the words delayed finds
A place in white coffin
And turned me as a Mime zombie.