I am naught but a broken thing
Discarded like a soiled rag
Devoid of every emotion I am
And feeling burnt to a greyish ash
Nothing more to look forward to
Except the spite of a noon sun's wrath

Now I lie hidden in a tomb of my choice
No longer caring to feed or give voice
To the spectral like creatures
That come sneaking in the night
With their morbid sick curiosity
Laughing and screeching in delight

They can smell the blood of me
As I hide here entombed
No more to walk on this earth
And to gaze at the moon
Or to experience such bliss
As holding the fair Armand in my arms
Lost to me forever are his boyish charms

I would cry real tears 
But even this is naught to be
He's never coming back 
Now my will has gone from me

So I lie here broken
And a mere shadow of myself
My only comfort are the echoes in my head
Of the crowds yelling ..... Lestat! Lestat!

In isolation I have lost control
And the only thing left to me now
Is thinking about this painful fact
And wondering that perhaps
It's not for me the erosion of the soul
For alas! ...........
I gave mine up long ago

©Janine Daniel