A poem about: The vampire knows only as The Wicked waits perched from the tallest building in Los Angeles. Nights Rain pouring down as if Neverending. Alone waiting. Observing the people down below . Jealous. Telling himself why he is doomed to be alone . But deep down he knows that just because he is surrounded in darkness, it doesn't mean darkness can't produce the brightest star. Forever alone walking in the streets waiting... for a glimmer of light. His gothic vampire heart remains

Perched high upon the concrete spire, The Wicked vampire claims his throne, While night weeps rain in endless choir, He watches on, unseen, alone. Beneath the shroud of clouds that weep, The city's pulse beats life below, Yet in his chest, the shadows keep, A heart that knows but can't let go. He envies those who dance in light, Their laughter echoes in the gloom, Yet darkness births the stars of bright, A truth that whispers through his tomb. Forever wandering the streets, With gothic heart forever scarred, He seeks a spark where darkness meets, Awaiting light, however marred.

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