His eyes glare at me with an intense flame,

His dark fangs protrude from his lips a-gain.

 

Yet he hates all of his kind who exist,

Those sweet, pitiful eyes I can't resist.

 

He sways closer; predatorial - fierce,

And finally those fangs, my neck, do pierce.

 

He hates all his kind - does he hate himself too?

He must hate me, for making him stay true.

 

He cries bitter tears for his monster side,

Now understanding that he cannot hide,

Who he is, from himself or from his friends,

He wonders; would life be better to end?

You

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