I see the night.
Pale and new.
And through this darkness I see you.
It’s you I hate.
You gave me this.
But I guess I love you too.

You’re my nightmare.
You’re my sire.
And I suppose abstract desire.
It’s you who made me.
You’re my death.
Yet it’s with you I conspire.

I need to feed.
And you’re right there.
I guess you could call it unfair.
Because you made me.
I destroy you.
Because I no longer care.

I am alive now.
And still I cry.
I guess I’ll never know why.
You were the first.
Yet not the last.
Because of you I cannot die.