Vladimir Rostravsky

There I was standing on a table, I stood there screaming at the icon on the wall. "Why hast thou left me here!" This is my prayer everyday, For I'm not living, nor am i dead. In the bright of day i was stabbed in the back. Hours later I was risen in night. At one time left for dead in the street, I now daily fight, feast, and pray for death. For I'm not living, nor am I dead. My name is Vladimir Rostravsky. Some people fear my existence, Others they welcome it. The church where i stay nobody visits, For I'm not living, nor am I dead. I have no reflection, but am I man? I have all five senses maybe an extra, That makes six. My blood is not a natural color, It is black as if it were midnight. For I'm not living, nor am I dead. The light it burns my skin, This battle between life and death, I fear I may lose. But I still must fight. For I'm not living, nor am I dead.