| Deviant Login | Shop |
 | Join deviantART for FREE  |
Take the Tour  |
State of Mind Do you feel your scope of thought,State of Mind by ~my0wnpris0n
Constricted day by day,
Now you'd better watch-what-you-say,
They take away your freedom,
It's fading day by day,
Soon you'll have to do-things-their-way,
They're crushing down your spirit,
You can't fight them anymore,
You can't even see-that-it's-war,
Is it worth your liberty,
Will you give up your choice,
Choose to let them mute-your-own-voice,
You have a chance to turn away,
To prove that you are strong,
To show them that you-know-they're-wrong
Do you want your scope of thought,
Expanded day by day,
Do you want to do-things-your-way,
Then you will have to stand up,
And let them hear yo
The Drinker of Blood A dark night; a starless sky,The Drinker of Blood by ~my0wnpris0n
A hidden shadow walks by,
No noises heard; not a sound,
Nor a footprint to be found,
This creature passes quickly,
His pallor pale and sickly,
Glowing eyes a sanguine red,
It's been so long since he fed,
The thirst too strong to resist,
He needs the blood to persist,
So he seeks his mortal prey,
That he may live one more day,
Driven by powerful urges,
A loathsome beast emerges,
Soon he finds his chosen mark,
A scream echoes through the dark,
His fangs sink into a vein,
Her struggles cease; there's no pain,
A strange pleasure grows within,
Overwhelming carnal sin,
Undeath fed by crimson flood,
Lay of the Were The hunter smells the blood, senses his prey,Lay of the Were by ~my0wnpris0n
His arm aches for the thrust, he needs to slay,
Approaching his quarry; raising his spear,
He gets closer and closer; he has no fear,
For he is the predator; this is his kill,
He has the courage and strength and the skill,
He lunges forward and strikes for the heart,
The spear rends the flesh; it rips it apart,
The wolf's eyes close; it takes its last breath,
And in that whisper, the sound of death,
Then the hunter kneels and shoulders the dead,
Rising he's bloody; his whole body red,
He makes for his home; salvation secure,
He kills not for pleasure; he seeks a cure,
To end his torm
Sta.sh
