Christopher

I was inspired to write this poem after watching a special feature on the nightmare before christams dvd called Vincent, I hope you like it and I would really appreciate it, if you could leave comments, thank you!

Christopher England was a boy, just nine years of age,
A pleasant little boy, but exceedingly strange.
Christopher was a nice boy, with a nature that was caring,
Always kind all his things he didn't mind sharing.
But Christopher, he wanted to be someone other,
For who he really was, he hid with a black cover.
He was Dracula, or rather he wanted to be,
Because in his eyes there was no-one more powerful than he.
A long black cape, shallow sunken eyes and lips vivid red,
Is what he wanted, so he could suck the living, dead.
Christopher England was his real name, although he thought it Christopher Lee,
Trapped inside Christopher Lee’s head, Dracula he wanted to be.
So he could walk long corridors, alone, forsaken,
And if he wanted, someone's life could be taken.
Christopher with his shadow black dog,
Wandered the streets of London in thick grey fog.
Like a lost little boy, though he knew where to go,
His mind drifting through fairytales of Edgar Allan Poe.
Christopher although alive for only nine years,
Knew he was strange and shed many a tear.
He could not help it, if he like the taste of life,
And that his best friend was a sharp, shiny knife.
Yes, his room was a mausoleum and his bed a sarcophagus,
And yes, there was nothing he desired more than the touch of your oesophagus.
But he is a pleasant little boy of only nine,
His mind trapped in a world of its own, rather like yours and mine.
Although rather more cynical and without any joy,
He is still only a pleasant little boy.
His head spinning, his thoughts in blood drowned,
Lost, all alone, with only his hound.
Christopher, only Dracula he wants to be,
So from his miserable life, he can be free.
But only at the age of nine, he has completely lost his mind,
And no sanity is he able to find.
He fell over his work, all in vain,
And in his dismay on a stake he fell, Dracula's bane.
As Christopher lay there, the worlds blood drains,
And only now can he feel Christopher lee’s pain.