It was but another cold and lonely night for the wretched vampire
Who lived from place to place but, unlike most vamps, had no sire.
He was miraculously born into vamphood by mortals,
Which was one fact that always made him chortle
For they were the one thing he hated most
But the one thing he couldn’t live without, nor boast.
Now, being hunted akin to the rest of his kind like game,
He was off once more to find peace, not fame.
Rameous was his name, his curse, the one thing he could not escape.
He was hell’s child, twisted into their own perverted shape.
It was now time to leave this town of men
Before things got nasty, before they got out of hand, again.
He was a kind-heart soul, if a soul is what he had,
Yet they treated him like he was evil, like he was bad.
Though his wings were devilish and his smile was a sneer
He was gentle and kind, he was a dear.
Yet, alas, he had no choice
But to go on in hopes of finding a home, a place he could rejoice.
Along his way, Rameous ran into, quite literally, a thief
But, unlike most, she filled him with relief
For she alone saw him for who, not what he was
And offered to help him, just because.
Her name was Darla and she carried a pack and a knife.
If he had been human, he would have gladly taken her for a wife.
They could use all the money and gadgets she had stolen,
Rameous felt his heart become swollen.
Finally things were looking up instead of looking down.
He could not stop from smiling, he could not even fake a frown.
Just as the two were nearly at their destination,
They ran into vampire slayers all standing in formation.
Their leader, Krane, a hard and stern man,
Scowled in disbelief at him and his men as they ran.
He was the only one left, the only one unafraid.
He unsheathed his sword and brought up his blade.
“You shall not pass, you fowl beast!”
Rameous laughed, he could have had him for a feast.
Fog vanished And darkness rose
And what was left you would never suppose.
The slayer was dead, killed on the spot.
But he mattered little, he would soon be forgot.
Now onto the place that Darla was leading him
It was so beautiful, so radiant, not dim.
A church, holy ground, such irony befell on him.
This would be his home, his property, his gym.
At last he heard those freedom bells ring
He could finally let his heart celebrate, be glad, and sing.