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The Vampire

I outlived the world. The silence grows. I watch the end of everything it knows. Four hundred years of names I cannot speak. I walked through cities, now a pile of bleak. I cast away the crown, the blood, the glass. I watch the seasons as they fail to pass. I am the monument of all things dead. A graveyard filled with secrets that I spread. I hold the shadows just to keep my soul. I pull the pieces, taking back control. I am the ruin of a life turned into gray. I am the metal where the heat has bled away. The night inside my hands is my design. I am exhausted by this history of mine. You look at me and try to see the past. But all the glory was not built to last. I am the point where hunger meets the bone. I sit inside this cage of stacked-up stone. The sun is just a myth I used to keep. I have no need for mercy or for sleep. I do not search for any way to run. I count the wreckage of what I have done. I am the evidence of time gone wrong. I am the friction in a fading song. The dark is just the space I call my own. I wait for nothing, ruler left alone. Time stops its movement, frozen in the air. I do not move, I only stare and stare. Then you appeared—a flaw within the scheme. A heartbeat breaking through a frozen dream. I called you temporary, just a breath. But you remained when all collapsed to death. You stand where silence ruled the quiet space. A stubborn warmth within this cold embrace. I do not speak of hope, I do not know the word. But night is different since your breath I heard. Once I was the name that made the sun afraid. A legacy of ruin that the empires paid. They called me monster when I cast my shade. Now I measure distance to the girl I frayed. I buried her beneath the dust and fear. But sometimes, in the dark, your voice is near. I am the echo that refused to die. I am the ember left beneath the sky. The night within my hands begins to burn. There is a pulse inside for which I yearn. I am the ruin of a failed and empty state. I am the fracture of a twisted fate. But now the dark is not completely bare. There is a voice that lingers in the air. Four hundred years, the world remains so still. The seasons broke against my iron will. But somewhere in the dark of this long night, A heartbeat pulses, refusing to take flight. I have outlived the world. And yet— The silence is not complete.