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Oct 2010
Her favourite night of the year approaches,
The veil between life and death will slip,
When ghouls, banshees  and ghosts leave their coaches,
And the headless horseman leaves with the crack of his whip.

Sure, she'll dress like a vamp, wearing plastic fangs,
And she'll play her part well, at this new night club spot,
Just a few, well selected mere mortals will hang,
For this party appears to be all that it,s not.

When she checks in her cloak, with the strange looking girl,
She is handed a drink, from an ancient vessel,
"What is it?", she 'll ask,"Oh just give it a whirl",
So she swigs, not seeing the bottle necks tossil.

As a tingle is closing her airways so tight,
She becomes quite aware of what she's drinking,
And she looks out the window, to see fading light,
And the floor feels like quicksand, she's sinking.

Her host appears, chanting, and everyone follows,
They claw at her , like they were starving,
And feed on her blood, she is shocked as it flows,
As she sees on her wrists, all the carvings.

Such a need to belong, left her lying, undead,
Just so she could appear,so delightful,
Now she feeds on the weak, ****** girls in their bed,
Crawling back in her hole, in wait for nightfall.
eileen mcgreevy
Written by
eileen mcgreevy
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