Vera Pim

As I sit upon this ancient tomb of the dead
and watch the clouds pass the moon.
I feel the damp and cold in my bones
and wish my life would be over soon.

For too many years I’ve felt like this.
Life just isn’t what it used to be.
The exciting lust for life I used to have
has changed to relentless monotony.

My appearance has definitely deteriorated
and my clothes have seen better days.
The mystique of which belonged to me
has disappeared with my elegant ways.

I am now looked upon as a down and out
when seen in the shadows of the night.
Time is not my friend like it used to be
and starvation will soon douse my light.

The last of my teeth fell out some years ago,
which is the cause of my demise.
My honourable code forbids me to kill
and to drink from the one who lies.

For centuries mortal man has given me life,
I’ve toyed and drank their blood as well.
Alas I have no regrets for being what I am,
but without dignity I must soon go to hell.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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