My Little Vampire Poem by Paula Glynn

The story starts in the year 1889
Victorian Britain at the height
Of the Jack the Ripper murders
A little boy seven years old
Knowing the bloody murderous tale told

A little boy to die of cholera
His poor body to suffer in agony
His youthful dying body unforgiving
His last breaths yearning for life again
And his life extended by a saviour vampire

But vampirism has its price
The young boy can never grow old
He can never worship the sun
Instead he sleeps in the daytime
And worships the devil's moonlight

He lures a fellow young boy
Into the cemetery with false promises
Glamorizing the life of a vampire
But the mortal boy doesn't want eternal life
He doesn't want to feed on human blood

But he is fascinated by his vampire friend
Knowing his life will never end
Never growing old and having to pretend
To be a poor boy begging on the streets
Really looking for human meat

The immortal young vampire
Does perpetually lure young children
Succeeding sometimes but not always
With lies about the glamour of night life
False claims of eternal youth with no proof

The little vampire has long forgotten his name
Perhaps George or Gus or Malcolm:
He doesn't know or care to remember
Calling himself the easy-to-remember Johnny
The Johnny that stalks in the darkness

What he had been as a mortal is long gone
With a soul older than time
In spite of his evil deeds
Human blood on which he has to feed
The red human liquid an incessant need

But perhaps even immortals are mortal
For as the centuries pass
Johnny grows tired of being a little vampire
And - in short - commits suicide
Leaving his coffin far behind in the hellish cemetery

Leaving the heat to burn his immortal body
And as he doesn't bed for the day the sun does rise
And with it there is no surprise
Johnny almost instantly turns to smoke and ash
His decision to end his vampire life a release and not rash.