• My Lamia

    A poem by Lazuras Lefure

    She is the one who drinks of the most sacred of things.

    She is a vampire who fills her chalice through rending my body.

    This temptress, this demon, drinks not from my blood,

    A far viler act she doth partake,

    She drinks of my affections, enough to fill a lake.

    She's the one who won't allow me sleep,

    The damned seductress who's locked me in her keep.

    Why can I not escape this creature, which fills my heart with dread?

    It isn't quite so easy, you'll find, to kill that which is already dead…

    Still, I must admit, my own thirst is fulfilled,

    If I could have something like her, I would gladly be killed.

    She is the idol of a dying society,

    This fragile, sick, unholy thing.

    This girl, not even a woman,

    Does what no man can:

    She takes from honor and tenderness,

    The reason why she is a true temptress.

    Her name, dare you ask?

    Lamia; the vile demon whose heart has no past.

    Lamia, my lovely, delicate torturer.

    Even in this pain, all I can think of is her.

    Lamia, the devourer of my will,

    Lamia, a girl who no one can kill.

    She walks my halls in vile walk and vile fashion,

    Her aim is to take and take with no compassion.

    When I see her, I am only in a regression.

    This charming, painful lass is nothing but my own depression…