When I was younger, there was a vampire
his red eyes could see through walls
he had long fangs and ink-black hair
and we locked him up in the hall.

Then I got older, and I didn't believe
in vampires anymore
but I still saw bloodshot eyes
watching me from behind closed doors.

One day he said, "what a pretty thing
you are, and would be for a feast..."

I, the seventh child, born on a Saturday,
instead chose to kill the beast.