The Vampire

We wait in the shadows,
Cunning and quick.
Enticing our meals,
Smooth and slick.

They fall into our arms,
Begging for more,
Convinced by our charms.
Alas, death is in store.

The sweetest smell,
Calls to us,
We cannot refuse,
To feast on their blood.

They weaken and weaken,
Becoming oh so thin.
Their heart's rhythmic beating,
Sounding of tin.

The victim frail,
Gasping for breath.
Although we never fail,
To bring a gentle death.