As you watch me, I bathe, purifying, my lovely dove, my tender sacrifice
You are but one more silenced voice I’ve added to my ever insatiable vice

I comb Transylvania far and wide in search of the red fountain of youth
Virgin girls, as company, an honour to bestow upon the lower - But in truth…

You, like so many others I gathered here before me, in my castle –an unsoiled crop-
Never to return home. For I must have all of their maidenhood to its very last drop.

Innocent in my bed, I made you my lover, for it was I, not man, that undid your flower.
Even After, your torture, doing wicked to your nubile bound form gave me even more pleasure.

Now watch me, helpless, soaking in youth – your youth- so that it becomes mine,
Your severed head now on a pike, a trophy, looking upon me extend my own line.

I’m immersed in your essence as it cleanses and restores my dying pale skin
It cures from wrinkles, blemishes and rejuvenates…Of age I’m no longer the victim.

For I who bathe in your blood and cover myself with this warm crimson glory
Will live on and never die, nor will my legend: I, Countess Elizabeth Bathory.

©® All rights reserved
10/26/2006

Ronberge (anno secundo)

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-the-blood-countess-warning-a-creepy-rhyme-a-poem-about-blood-blood-blood-blood-blood/