Bluff (an acrostic poem)

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Bashful with a dash of humility was his favorite drink
Leaving him sated every time he partook of that sweet nectar
Under the moonless sky, he would go out for a pint or two
Fortune smiled when he found a sweet young insecure thing looking for tall, pale, and handsome
Finding a dark spot to sip her vitality, he never saw the wooden stake till it was too late

Grit (an acrostic poem)

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Given she was down at least a pint and a half of blood

Really, she should be passed out on the ground

Instead, she looked the creature in the eye and growled

That’s what finally broke the monster and it fled into the darkness