I grin in pleasure as I watch instinctively
From the unsuspecting shadows.
As he smugly walks at a slow,
Constant pace, not knowing what the
Night has in strore for him.
I close my eyes and listen to his foot steps,
Hearing his next movement in sync with his last.
I hear his small heart beating as though
Unaware of my presence.
I smell the blood before it pours
And caress my lip with my tounge
As I taste the sweet red liquid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't know whether to cheer this or lament it. I was a well done short feature film. But I wonder who watches such things and why. I praise the skill. Lament its use. GW62