He walks in shadow, pale and thin,
Hunger burning deep within.
Not just the blood, he drinks them whole,
Their fading whispers feed his soul.

No longer bound by death or thirst,
His form erupts, reborn, reversed.
Limbs uncoil, his spine extends,
His mouth distorts, his hunger bends.

Each sip, each pulse, a fleeting taste,
A stolen spark he won’t let waste.
Yet every soul he drains away
The world around begins to sway.