Oh those vampires, the ones who walk in day, 

Not bloodsuckers, per se, but feeding off the living nonetheless, 

Taking trust and naivete as cues to target,

Feasting on neuroses and desperation, 

Maneuvering, conning, pretending to have beating hearts. 

If only she could find another one to take her,

Sure that, this time, she would be turned, instead of used, 

She was sure that she could bask in immortality. 

There must be good vampires, she told herself.