Sonnet Sunday's: Alive

All alone in the velvet night

I prey upon the earth’s meager

Most of them go down with a fight

While few are willing and eager

Perfect white fangs puncture their neck,

To expose blood so pure and fine

Their death, a reality check,

Making what was once theirs all mine

Their lifeless bodies fall limp,

Eternal life is what I strive

Be it mom, child, hooker, or pimp,

Their precious blood keeps me alive