First Kill

Creeping shadows
The darkness form
Out of the twilight 
The night is born

You feel a chill
Your skin is cold
A thrill of kill
Of you got hold

Rising thirst
You need to sate
Your victim first
Will seal your fate

A frightened shriek
She tries to fight
Her defence meek
Yields to your bite

A heavy glaze
In dark green eyes
The palest face
Signs her demise

A lifeless heap 
Flops at your feet
Before you leap
At your next feed