This is something I didn't write at all, but I read in a book long ago and thought you all might enjoy it

I come from the past
I eat the night
I knew you when you were young
I tell you my story
But I sleep with a gun
I'm a black walker, babe
The stars are holes in the sky
The moon is a thorn in the dark
It drips white light
Give me the knife
Let's cut out our eyes
Yeah this is our night
This is what's right
I'm a black walker, babe
Brush my lips, and I bleed you white

--Christopher Pine, Thirteen, Collect Call I (pg 16)