Scamper after dark—though it’s moon-drenched—
don’t chance to be their mark…neck is soon trenched.
They want you for their bloodlust, so don’t stay here.
You could be dry; best scurry on.

Looking for a bite…you’re their chew grub.
Your fine skin is the site that’s their chew hub
Just below your face they will have bled you.
Fangs in; swiggin’ starts.

They are very old,
centuries, I’m told.
Many a leak they’ve sprung
with their canine tines.
Nighttime’s when they dine.
Fear ’em; do not get near ’em.

Scamper through the park, though it’s moon-drenched,
or chance to be their mark; you’ll be doomed when
they get you for their bloodlust—your throat seared.
When sere, you’ll die, then be one spawned.

Don’t go out at night to be chewed up
You can put up a fight; they’ll on you sup.
You’ll have to face it: Once they have bled you,
vampire “life” will start.