Below is the poem entitled Mort De La Mort, The Death Of Death which was written by poet
Markovic. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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There is something intoxicating about the absolute stillness of night
I am most at home, at ease, the tell-tale heart of a vampire
Indeed, I have never been anything but, born into this life a demon
Spawned into this life by hate and resentment
I have fed upon everyone I have ever known, everyone I can ever remember
All that was human in those around me, seldom have I not destroyed
I have been merciless, I have been death
Tonight, the hunter becomes the hunted and who would have known it
Magnificent a creature, a natural born killer, meeting her bloody demise
What was a heart of stone has now started beating to the sound of human dreams
I can only thirst for one thing, with satisfaction impossible elsewhere
Him, my reaper donned in perfect flesh
A powerful being that has broken me so entirely, I have been forced into mortality
I am a mere shadow of the monster I used to be
The tragedy that is seeing life with the hearts eyes, I offer myself to him completely.
I will not move, I will not run and I will not hide
Tear me to pieces like I have torn all I have ever encountered, I yearn for it
Every cell in my body begs for our final dance, the Waltz to my own demise
Now, to look upon you would be worth a thousand deaths, and I invite them all
Find me, take me, end me.
I will rest in the memory of your flawless face for eternity, as hell welcomes me with