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Blood Lust

I found out by the purest accident
that I like the taste of blood.
I felt ashamed to tell anyone,
but denying it would do no good.

I bought meat from the butchers
and extracted what I could,
but the taste failed to satisfy,
which left me craving human blood.

I broke into the Transfusion Service
and drank all that I stole.
It wasn’t long before I was arrested
and found guilty of having no soul.

They placed me in a mental hospital
and tried to cure my thirst,
but the substitute blood they gave me
only made my craving worse.

Daylight began to hurt my eyes,
my incisors grew sharp and long.
I could see clearly in the darkness
but I yearned blood upon my tongue.

My cell mate became lifeless and frail,
because he enjoyed giving his blood.
Other prisoners willingly contributed,
the staff and guards also tasted good.

In the short time that I’ve been here
I’ve become a much healthier man.
Every person here must take the credit
for helping me become what I am.

Even though they won’t release me
they consider that I am cured.
I’m being transferred to an open prison
where new friends are assured.

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