Heredity Vampires Poem by Mark Heathcote

There are ravens wanting to pickoff your bones
Because they sense a glint of gold and unworn
Leather on the bottom of your Italian soles
They've no regret you've passed on, don't mourn
They want what's coming, it's their reward
They'll empty you- out like you are a gourd.

It's their legacy heredity vampires sleep for years
And when they wake, they're like all profiteers
They'll trace their lineage back to you.
Other cursed ancestors are sitting on the shelf
Their ashes from a bygone age will laugh at you
But you'll have no regrets, at least not at this time.

Rainclouds are like dirty soap suds around you
But now their lees are disappearing down the drains
And these others, with their birthright, damned
Say, I won't be shunned or consumed
I want what's mine, every penny - every dime.
Is that a crime; don't you believe I've got a heart?

I've paid my way every day.
I deserve my just desserts. I won't make the same mistakes.
I'll love my neighbour till it hurts.
You'll see a different me.
This heredity vampire will leave his house;
The sun will shine and rouse the souls of the divine.
They'll cry in tears of laughter, never to be doused again.