On stormy nights I hear sounds,
the yelling,
the screaming,
the child crying into its hands.
The child.
It's terrified
Because It can see
the thirsty pale creature.
It's not fair for the child.
It can't help that its blood is tasty.
That the rain carries the scent
Into the creature's home.
The creature leans toward the child.
Its eyes brilliant red,
The child screams in pain
As it becomes a pale creature.
This pattern continues
Every stormy night
For the rain carries the scent
Of fvery innocent child.
Creature In the Storm
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