The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Should a soul be given the delight to whisper,

Or the joy of being able to fly?

Should a life be given the right to take others,

Or the grief of killing onesown?

Should a person be given the ability to choose,

Or the painstake of being chosen for?

Should we know where to draw the line,

And especially, when to close the door.



Illianos.

We live in an unsculptured world,

Where things may come and go,

and things begin anew with each waking breath,

To which everyone is abundant,

And they never seek a second glance,

At the simple world around them.



We care in such a mad world,

Where things may happen,

And war can commercialise the death of all,

The hand of dragons was once gained,

And within which one human,

Held close a small dragon, in protection.



The war had consumed her village,

A small, previously, peaceful place,

And as the thunderous hooves were heard,

Behind they came nearer,

The thought of what was to happen,

Striving and wriggling free by her chest.



And such the hatchling rose to the air,

And in a single swoop, woman and hatchling,

Rose to the sky, saved,

By none other than a brood-mother,

And they flew, near to a clearing, a nest,

And she watched as all the hatchlings lay to sleep.



Knowing she was out of place,

But likely expected to do the same,

And wishing to keep the hatchling from harm,

Followed and slept by him.



Morning came and the dragons arose,

Stretching in thanks to the sun,

It's warm gaze lighting all in its wake,

But one figure had not rosen,

And she laid, desolate, like a shadow,

Unable to join the dragons in their display.



Young hatchlings rushed up,

Nuzzling their friend, for signs or response,

But none was made,

Shrill shrieks and cries of despair,

Abrubtply made by the young hatchlings,

In despair of the human who cared so much.



So much despair, pain and suffering,

Should not be felt by one so young,

But it cannot be helped,

Nor is there any choice now,

As once one goes,

All must follow.



And all that is left, is an eternal sense, of longing for the light...

Why do we speak such crime,

In so few words?

Why do we see so little,

With so many of us?

Why do we hear the traffic,

When someone is screaming?

Why do we feel so much,

When our hearts contain so little?



Why do we belong?



Because I am here, and so are you.

So long as you are here, I will protect you.

I will protect you, so long as I am here.

Why?

Because it is my life to do so as I wish,

And I wish to be with you,

And I wish to protect you,

And I wish to be there until my end,

As I will throw my life away,

For the Innocence of a child to be spared.



Illianos.

a simple two liner -



"Such complex purity of the soul,

Glistens through the simple sound of music."



Illianos

Plague the man,

The holy mantle,

The cradle from which he spewed.

Save the priest

And drown the rats,

No saviour will come for you.



The hidden dream,

The see-through ghost,

The invisible man I met,

All such things are in our minds,

But in our hearts they're kept.



We remember their names,

And how they felt,

So vivid in our minds,

To go to sleep and dream of them,

One person at a time,

Remembering what they said to us,

Seems almost like a mime...

The mouth moves but no words to speak,

The person drawing near,

His hands are stretched,

And his balding head is sweating,

Mixing with his tears.



This man lived life,

So to the full,

That he accepted what he knew,

And what he didn't came to pass,

And that knowledge grew and grew.

Such knowledge causes pain,

This man soon learned to dream,

That such a painful experience,

Can cause the blind to see.



Illianos.

Scream the dream,

Plague the stream,

And drown in your one true love.



Voice the hurt,

Smack the dirt,

And relish in your sorrow.



Live upon a life,

Strive to live,

And punish those who dare get in your way.



As your life is yours to live,

But never yours to give away.

Do you scream to be heard?

Or do you wish to be heard screaming.

and why?

Just why do you scream?



Such a thankless being,

With such tattered wings,

Such bloody, unclean robes...

And yet you work for God?



You are an unclean servant,

A being who knows no shame,

You have made his life hell,

And so I shall do the same.

Why do you follow,

Shadow of tales untold,

Who do you seek,

An audeince behold?

The shadows do not creep,

Along blood-ridden walls,

They only Seep,

Down the shallow, empty halls.



Whom do you seek,

Shadow of tales fortold,

The legend and the myth,

The broken keyholes.

Why do you shudder,

In a warm summers day,

Surely you see,

I wish my cares away.



And now I beg you,

Follow no more,

I bore of your footsteps,

On this cold, shallow floor,

You tire me with words,

Whispered in ears,

While you expect them,

To be drowned through with tears.



I am not as soft as you believe,

Nor as weak as you percieve,

The body is weak, frail and fragile,

While the mind is the opposite meanwhile,

Your tricks and mockery will not work,

Your tiresome uphandlings shall fail,

Your constant flutters of words so deep,

Can only penetrate so far as the skin,

Because words are harmless,

And meaningless things are said,

All the time,

Everytime,

Everytime I listen,

Someone else just gets hurt.



So Just leave me alone,

Shadow,

And let your words,

Burn.