I might not trail among the path that the dead crawl around on,
Yet when I do I am greeted with more to listen, more to see and touch.

Even if the dead give me a sour taste in my mouth, I always look,
Is the body him ?
Did the body seem like him ?
Was he killed.
Was he still alive.
Was he gone for ever.

You see, those are what is asked, But no one knows what is correct and what is wrong.
Nobody has the courage to try and see.

Because, they all think I did it.
How could I do such a thing, we are cultured,
We are intelligent beings that see unlike anyone else.

On a scale we are far better than our Romanian cousins, we are covered in gold, with actual gardens.

And,
We aren't as humanoid, our necks are covered in some sort of mane, our fur makes us beast according to the Spaniards.
I don't believe that, we look comparably better to humans.

Our bodies are even, more adapted to sudden changes in climate.
Darkness is a nice fellow, a good friend.
Brightness, well, we have a love hate relationship with brightness.

Honestly, blood is a sweet for special occasions, more like a side dish with a couple fruits from Caribbean.
Us vampires aren't all blood sucking monsters.