In darkest nights upon twisted spires,
Gather, thou devils, saints’ dark desires.
Now hearken here to those cawing knaves,
As this very tale from the grave reclaims.
With bone-chilled screams and wings of blackened flame,
These vile fiends weave evil’s cruelest aim.
Their wails in the night bring fright’s mighty sway,
On midnight wings, they come to stalk and prey.
Not saints, but monsters cloaked in raven’s guise,
Conceal the sins where darkened essence lies.
Fallen angels with souls so darkly steeped,
Return to crooked knoll where shadows creep.
On Hallow’s Eve, return, but burn at dawn;
Reveal your form, let haunted guise be drawn.
Where you seek to rise, your end is near to find,
With devilish eyes and shape unkind.
Begone, O fiends of darkness, from this place,
Till forevermore, with crooked soul erased.
Return on All Hallows’ Eve if you dare,
Yet beware, for your dark fate waits there.
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