This is a poem about Lestat de Lioncourt. I couldn't help it. XD
Gray, Blue, Violet,
Depending on the light.
Blond hair, white in the light.
Life, human life doesn't remain with him anymore.
Only the life of blood lust and night.
But never scared, never regretted it.
His mother shows no emotion,
very little is even shown even to him.
He is the one and only son she connects with,
as he connected with her.
A carefree runaway.
Whose ideas you should behold
Never reject them.
For they are the same as ours
Because he too was human.
Until the conversion had begun.
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