Vampyre | Teen Ink

Vampyre

September 12, 2023
By Anna_Grace GOLD, New Paltz, New York
Anna_Grace GOLD, New Paltz, New York
16 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I refuse to be buried under the soil, 

To fill my daffodil lungs with dirt

Refuse to lay in a pencil-stick box as I boil,

So you can alligator cry to emphasize your hurt

I refuse to let you leave a red rose

To have bouquets thrown on the wood

Refuse to watch that pale horse canter down another road

So you can hear me scream and know it does no good


I refuse to be defamed as a washed up mess

To be a story, a warning, children are told

I refuse to hear it was the fault of my dress

So they can feel like it is a fate they’ll never know

I refuse to be a name scrawled on stone, 

To inspire parents to click their tongues

I refuse to be a limp body without a soul,

So this moment is where I scream, “enough!”


No, professor, it seems I’ve failed all my lessons,

But I won’t let you keep hurting little blonde girls in little black dresses

A corpse you called me, a corpse I am

I rue the day when I called such a coward a man

Four feet tall and six feet under

Every girl in this graveyard once had someone who loved her

A monster you called me so a monster I’ll be

You’ll rue the day you tried to bury me

Four feet tall and six feet under

No girl in this graveyard has seen sixteen summers

Ashes to ashes, but who holds the lighter?

Every girl in this graveyard has been tied to that pyre

Ashes to ashes, higher and higher

When there’s blood on my fangs, call me a vampire.


We refuse to lay in our coffins for the people to gawk

Refuse to let you bleed us dry

We refuse to be just a fable you can ward off with a cross,

Refuse to let them close their eyes,

We refuse to sit here shaking from the chills,

Refuse to do nothing when a girl screams you’ve burned her

We refuse to simply stare moodily out window sills

Refuse to let you get away with murder


No, we don’t believe you’d learn a lesson

But we won’t let you keep hurting little blonde girls in little black dresses

Corpses you called us, corpses we are

Did you rue the day a dark cupid shot a bullet through your heart?

Four hundred fangs for your neck to fall under

Every girl in this graveyard has the rest of us who love her

Monsters you called us, so monsters we’ll stay

You’ll rue the day you caused our pillows to singe with acid rain

Four hundred fangs for your neck to fall under

Every girl in this graveyard will see you don’t see another summer

Ashes to ashes, but we hold the lighters

Every girl in this graveyard, we set the world on fire

Ashes to ashes, higher and higher

When there’s blood on your hands, don’t call us vampires.


The author's comments:

This piece is inspired by the #MeToo movement and my own experiences of the powers of female solidarity after trauma and abuse. The analogy of the vampyre is that after this kind of pain, one is neither dead nor alive and has to learn to live in a completely different way.


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