Who am I?
This is what I asked myself at first.
Lying on the cold, hard floor,
With an insatiable thirst.
I get up to see where I am,
A small, cramped place, a crypt perhaps.
No memory of name or identity,
I think of it at first as a minor memory lapse.
On the plaque, it is written,
“Here lie the remains of Dr. Domingo de Guzman.”
I ask myself if that is me,
Because I feel like I have heard the name of that man.
It must be my name, I tell myself.
My skin is as cold as the stone floor, with no pulse
To feel any heartbeat, if I still had one.
Otherwise I’d do something on impulse.
What is this sudden pain?
A piercing feeling, with a sudden twist in my guts.
I’m not sure if I can take it any longer,
For it feels like a death of a thousand cuts.
But with great pain comes a sudden boon,
An influx of strength, coursing through my veins!
Truly something that is incredible,
A great reward after all those strains.
I exit the little room,
And find a spacious bedroom with a vanity mirror.
I approach the drawer to look at myself,
And see if I can make things clearer.
“Egad!” I exclaim to myself.
For I can no longer see my own reflection!
I fall down on the nearby bed from shock,
While looking at my own pale complexion.
I do not know what exactly I have become
As I close my eyes and ponder if I have been cursed.
But I still cannot understand this one feeling,
This insatiable, persisting thirst.