May 1, 2008
By Blaire Wilson, Scottsdale, AZ

Who is this boy that sits next to me?
Avoiding my eyes, still as a tree.
Clenching his fists, as tense as can be.
Surely he can’t be thinking of me.

Nearly pinned beneath two trucks
I thought I was out of luck.
Had it not been for him,
My life would look very grim.

Strolling the streets alone in danger,
Behind me walk four large strangers.
From out of nowhere he appears,
To gently wipe away my fears.

He says it is my blood he desires,
Of me, I hope he never tires.
So glad he’s learned self control.
For he will always save my soul.

Lured to my death by an evil man
If anyone can save me, surely he can.
The ultimate test of his love you see,
Was extracting only the venom from me.

Surely he must be thinking of me.

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