Too late it was realized by her
pain was felt so soon,
very early all was had;
too young everything was lost.
The bite was done, blood was racing
life was going -fast-
closely held by a demon, she, becoming his slave.
Life leaving her body, her soul turning cold.
She began to turn back, but, coldness took over.
The perfect one, she would be, she was told.
Welcoming her, darkness, lost souls.
Alone she awoke sensing scents of rotten
while knowing it was once fragrant;
so innocent, yet, she rose a Diabolique.
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