Abracadaver

No longer sacred within the confines of a tomb,
Her body laid to rest is now in my possession,
With the power of necromancy I’ve come to exhume,
I can restore her to a better state of regression.

She will be a creature of the night for the ages,
Worshipped and adored by impure obscure subcultures,
She will be revered and feared by ancient sages,
Dwelling in the shadows beneath voiceless sepulchers.

She will have an everlasting thirst for human blood,
With a deadly caress from fingernails sharp as knives,
Bathing in exquisite entrails with flood after flood,
Savagely visceral of their miserable lives.

Arise my darling, arise from your grave, sense the rave,
Feel my lifeblood flow through your cold veins - it’s quite a sight,
And in your eternal rebirth you will always crave,
So go feed amidst the shadows each and every night.