The Ravishing Grimness

Veil of midnight, shroud of ache, A hollow heart begins to wake, Unfed, unwhole, in shadow curled, Craving life within this world. A wraith unseen yet bound to thirst, The agony—a wicked curse, Flesh untouched but essence bled, Hungering for what is shed. Through trembling dark and frigid moan, I grasp at souls, yet stand alone, Each stolen breath a fleeting glow, Still starving deep in depths below. Ravishing grimness, wretched plight, A suffering that breeds delight, To drink, to drain, to taste the soul, To feel—then lose—control. In tortured pangs, my hollow cries, A thirst that burns, that never dies, No blood will sate, no flesh repair, Only whispers in the air. The void consumes, yet I remain, Bound by hunger, wracked with pain, A phantom lost, unseen, yet near, Feeding off your trembling fear. And when the night betrays the dawn, Another voice—another gone, A feast of echoes, dimly bright, Devoured whole before the light.