Crows danced with the children of scorn beneath a scarlet sunburst whilst an incubus babe was born- promptly given blood to quench its thirst. At dusk they feasted with ease; liquored were their lips of bloodlust, driven to beat those they could seize- some silenced with blade thrust. The celebration waned by dawn; fuddled were the children of scorn- mumbles began to fade into yawn. Sleep subdued the last by morn, ending the rite of a newborn.