Im his beautiful immortal marionette,
That is attached to invisible strings.
That are intertwine with his pale fingers,
Waiting for him to jerk them.
Whose he? My puppet master?
He is no other than, Count Dracula.
Each time he jerks those invisible strings.
He is bending my will to his,
To do his bidding each night.
When he grows tire of me,
Ill be tossed aside to be forgotten.
Then I would be replaced by another.
That is more beautiful than me.
Until then Ill be his favorite one.