The Knave

There existed a Knave
That rose from the grave
Those few that were brave
Tried him to save
But made new was a slave
For grave’s knave


He possessed a great need
He always hungered to feed
So he increased his speed
And performed the deed
Many did he bleed
As he planted his seed

When with victims he did deal
He could perennially feel
An overwhelming zeal
After the fate of his meal
He did so cruelly seal
Never again were they real

But clearer was his sight
Superior was his height
Greater was his might
Fiercer was his fight
And further reached his blight
In the depth of the night

In a distant mire
Burning eternally was the fire
From many a funeral pyre
Times were dire
But this was the desire
Of Darkness esquire
That lead Death’s choir
The Demonic Vampire

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