Into the darkest corners of the abyss,
They exist there alone,
Alive, but not,
Dead, but undead,
Moonlight in their eyes and smiles of blood ruby reds,
Death and cold is their endless presence,
A lifeless existence,
One of everlasting murder, and horror,
For most, it is soulless, lifeless, meaningless,
Except for one…
One who’s life was stolen, and replaced by eternal blackness,
One who longs for the sun, but will never see it,
One who listens for words of kindness, but will never hear them,
One who prays for love, but will never feel it,
The one who is different from the rest,
The one who still has his heart,
And can still love, and care, and pray,
The one who’s undeath is not understood,
The one, with the tormented heart, of a true immortal.