The Demon's Son

Circling the night
Waiting for the right time to strike
two of my own beside me
wind rushing past in flight.

For a moment I block out the moon
and I laugh as my foe swoon
The elves cower as I land before them
They know that they'll die soon

And then I know who to kill
Making no attempt to flee,
His eyes are dark and unafraid
He reminds me... of me

The kill is sweet, almost fun
By the first gash, I'm half way done,
Of course, until the young man cried:

'Mother, don't you recognize your son?'