Alternating truths and lies

I have never touched a cloud, not for a lack of trying,

And I’ve never questioned why do birds fly.

Things aren’t meant to be questioned

If you question the walls come crashing down –

Isn’t that how you kill a vampire? By tearing down your walls and inviting them into your home?

My mother raised me to appreciate garlic more than any other seasoning.

I think she had trouble slaying her vampire.

We can’t all be Buffy – no one wants to be a Slayerette.

I’ve never liked garlic; it covers things up,

And my mother’s warned me about covering the truth

But I think if I could taste a cloud, it’d taste like a honeysuckle;

Fleeting like the blood we bleed

And the love our vampires drink.


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