Vampyres. We are those cast down from Heaven or neglected from Hell. We are not worthy for the living but not damned enough for death. As the traces of beings long forgotten, we linger at the liminal threshold of dreams. All human emotions are mere things of life, things we feel no more. After all...we are not humans any longer, only denizens of the night.
But for cheating life and death, we have also been cheated, for we only know sadness, crimson remorse. Cursed with eternal melancholy, we stand by the sidelines and watch as the world drifts by in lost momentum. We are forever rehearsing a play that will never be performed. We are the show that entertains a dead audience, and, like decripit photographs, we are shattered visions frozen in black and white.