Sins of a Sinner
I hang from the cross,
Chains dig in my skin.
My voice is lost,
And my kin stay within.
The shadows call,
Promises of pain.
The cursed ones fall,
Down to their knees.
They pray to their God,
So eager to please.
They think He can cleanse me,
The sins I have wronged.
But I am no bug, no illness, nor pest.
I am only a soul,
Trying to rest.
Because I have fangs,
And blood is my drink,
They stab and they slice,
Not pausing to blink.
'You are a disease,
An animal at best!'
Then why do you fear me,
Why do you jest?
I am the same as you, only my body is different.
The cross is hot at my back,
These chains bind me to my fate.
I see the light, that which I lack,
Then I am the light,
Aflame as a torch, a beacon of death.
No, He cannot cleanse me.
My sins cannot be undone.
With but a second of time,
I give the cursed ones my final words; 'By all the power of the Nosfiratus, you will come undone!'