Necromancer
.
Flesh is cold and weak
    beneath my hands
    impregnated with a daemon's seed
Bent now to my will
    pallor fades
Color rushes to your cheeks
    gathers in your lips
What once was sluggish and crisply dried
now flows with mystics aid
    Another's soul was wrested
    grafted to thine own
        My lips pressed to you
        pass the breath of unlife
A spark of heat contained therin
    Now bound to me
    O' mockery of illusion
    the greatest deception
That we lived at all
    Regardless, thou art mine
        a work of art, my creation
        unholy companion
        Laugh now, my only
For we are eternal
.
-Moon Sidhe © 1999