In the midnight’s whisper, they silently roam,
Vampires of old, far from their ancient home.
Eyes like embers in the dead of night,
Seeking the pulse that beats with fright.
Their touch is cold, yet their allure burns,
A promise of eternity, for which one yearns.
Through the ages, their legend grows,
In moonlit halls where the dark wind blows.
From castle spires to the streets below,
They weave a tale of sorrow and woe.
A love thatâs lost, a heart thatâs sealed,
In shadows deep, their fate revealed.
Yet in their curse, a beauty lies,
A tragic grace beneath the skies.
For in each bite, a storyâs told,
Of life and death, both young and old.