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I played outside the crypt's stone gates
my toys all made of bones
remembrances of days long gone
times when breath was in my lungs
and soft flesh adorned my limbs
as I scampered joyously
embracing all
until my fateful death.

I danced beneath the blood red moon
and sang the bats to sleep
chased wolves across the crumbling graves
and burrowed holes for worms.

I picked my prey near the western moor
and stalked him silently
hiding amidst the gorse brush
as he trip trapped home
whistling a tune to bolster his confidence.

I fed atop my ghastly perch
on sun-touched flesh so sweet
perched in barren tree branches
red tainted warmth running down my throat
as still he squirmed.

I giggled into the cricket-song night
as his helpless struggles faded,
and I discarded the remains
traipsing home before the sunrise came
and tucked myself into bed.