Metaphors for the ones who burn

3/10 - Vampire [REGALIS II]

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•ensure the font is small enough for formatting•
•the shape of the poem portrays several bats hugging•

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When I look in the mirror I see nothing.

No one.
Emptiness.
Not a shadow.
Where I should be,
I view straight through.
How do you love me then,
If I'm not anything to look at?
I am best seen unseen to civilians.
I am best when left alone completely.
The moon is my friend albeit she scolds.
The sun would be better away from my skin.
Most people could not imagine my experience,
and people would be better away from my visage.
Yet you think that my inconceivable visage is lovely.
You see me worthy despite others' insistence I'm not.
You seeing something in me indicates your blindness...
I must not let my validation come from your blindness.
You are a liar to yourself and me when you speak love.
You are a vile creature contorting me into a cold trap.
You have shown your ugly untrustworthiness before.
I see fully all the time and thus know you're wrong.
You are pitiful for providing hope to the hopeless.
I am insufficient for holy love and always will be.
I came to rescue you and yet you try to save me?
I'm impossible and I know only you can be saved.
Let me save you as I disintegrate before holy crosses.
I am a vampire with the face and stature of a satanic bat.
You are a once-heavenly fallen angel who can yet be saved.
May my grotesque form wrap your beauty in obsidian wings.
Society may never crave me yet Society craves you endlessly.
You were made for Society's pleasure yet you dance for me.
In me you chose a lowlife so unsalvageable and grotesque.
My devil wings drip tar and incarnadine and exhaust me.
I am dull and unappealing to experience and to exist as.
I have the will of man yet they assume I crave murder.
The only death I crave is my death in order for order.
My death is something that the people and I agree on.
Our goal in Society is to agree and so I agree with them.
And so a proud bat falls from the roof onto a hollow floor.
An empty thud resonates as a once-hopeful vampire leaves.
The final flight, neither holy nor unholy, ended irrelevant.
Society hides in a corner with a veil over her shrewd face.
Is Society the real bloodsucker? Did Society fire the gun?
Did I always deserve love? Had I always deserved love?
Why did nobody ever show love if I had deserved love?
Why must Society hold a butterfly yet squash a roach?
Why did love show easily to some but not a vampire?
Can you let me know why love is there and not here?
Can you tell me what I did and where I went wrong?
You, my darling, are an extension of the Truman lie.
You, my darling, are the parasite to the unfortunate.
I have already numbed the ruthlessness of your soul.
My soul is ruthless too, because Society burrows there.
As such, we all exist in order to punish me for existing.
Yours is never real love as you wish to be a paid actress.
I will not exasperate my few gifts to buy crocodile tears.
Yet I am a porcupine wishing to brush against my kind.
Sadly, porcupines tend to prick each other when close.
Us born low-lifes, us vampires, are like porcupines.
We cannot get close enough to find the root cause.
Few ever find out that vampires are the scapegoat.
The real enemy is the Society that citizens uphold.
So it's Society's profiteers who destroy the vampire.
Ironically, the vampire never attacks, only retaliates.
The vampire is too small to sink his teeth into Society.
So it is Society who sinks her raw teeth into the vampire.
You, my darling, are an extension of Society, for you profit.
You, my darling, say that I too must profit, but you are blind.
If you watched my life and assessed my state, you would see.
But you cannot see, you are not my veterinarian nor angel.
My kind does not have angels as we are too wretched.
I had accidentally confused you as my angel, at first.
No, Society is your angel, and you are not my angel.
I need no savior of this Earth, and I have my wings.
You aren't my Beatrice, and I am not Dante Alighieri.
I am closer to Virgil on this Earth, though I know God.
I will be an angel to the damned and to those who seek.
As for me, God may carry, as He does for all His creation.
Yet His care doesn't change who I am to this damned world.
I am Dracula, a vampire, nobody, the unknown to be feared.
I know what I am, which fate I was born to, as proof relays.
I ask you not to be afraid but also not to lie to me as well.
Many who have tried to alter my mind have worsened it.
My case can only be solved by isolation and high drapes.
I masquerade, search for a ray of light, and dance as fire.
However, I am water, and I am the cigarette, not lighter.
Do you understand that the scariest figure fears most?
It was never the wretched bat who was blind and feral:
It was Society who blindly sunk its feral teeth to the bat.
Yet the masses continue to persecute the misunderstood.
No one wishes to understand me, nor the depth I portray.
Society has deemed my case study irrelevant and needless.
And so my kind will continue to torpedo toward the ground.
As for me, I aim to live an objective life numb to the effects.
I sulk in my room daily waiting for an idle world to change.
I have my people, and they have me, and so I have a home.
However, Society is not my home, and she can never be.
I study her in depth as if looking through a crystal ball.
Society is so beautiful and complex, with rich culture.
I enjoy her in my lonesome pleasure as I debate her.
She drains me of my energy as I ponder her daily.
She is my life's obsession and my muse: Society!
She dictates my terrible life and I owe it to her.
She decides how I am upheld and destroyed.
Her tenacious rules are why I feel disjunct.
I had lost the game since the beginning.
Sure, I may make my standing worse,
But do not misattribute my enemy.
My nemesis is not my neighbor,
Nor even the deceitful lover,
But my enemy is the force
Which unites them
Opposite me:
Society.