Hidden in the night's embrace,
we seek innocence
but out pasts have left us none.

Beneath the skies so black,
we seek shelter
but life leaves us in an open field.

Under the shadows, we search
for one last meal,
but the soil was never fertile.

We wander these hill,
lost within ourselves
as we watch the world move on.

We have come to realize
that we aren't meant to be a part of it all,
as we watch the world move on.

We hang our heads,
so as to not lose faith in reality,
as we watch the world move on.

Through the cracks in the soil you grow,
with barely enough rain found to sustain your fragility.

With nothing to protect you but your thorns,
meant to draw the darkest of blood.

Yet you grow by moonlight, the sun too bright
to allow you to retain your petals so deep.

And here you waiting for that soul as lonely as you,
so as to find appreciation in one who understands.

You shall stay with this one until that day,
The day the petals wilt.

The faces of the night,
formed by air and fright,
are of the strongest barriers.

From a child so small,
to many so tall,
the barrier keeps us trapped.

We dare not attempt
to cross a wall so dense,
for what is the creatures are more than they seem?

They take to the street on this night of Halloween;
A night to celebrate; to feast unseen.

What is perceived as a mask,
of horns and decay,
Is in truth just the face of a nightmare ready to play.

For this is the night that
they have freedom to roam,
with no one to stop them from approaching a home.

The door is opened,
by a victim so bold.
and as she turns away, they leap from the cold.

In the blink of an eye,
they are ready to eat,
the last thing they heard being "Trick or Treat".

Tendrils of ebony slithering about,
looking to latch onto a soul so pure.

The purpose to drain the life within,
And raise it as their own; a creature of the dim.

The soul is ready,
the last of livelihood stripped away.

As from life comes death,
And from death is peace.
But peace turns to horror
As death becomes life.

They rise from the ground,
Hungry and ready to hunt.

Their tastes are unique,
They desire not a cow nor a horse,
Not a snake nor a rat.

They crave just one flavor,
And that flavor is you.

The moth flies in circles,
Forever distracted by the light.

Surely it must be the moon,
Telling it where to go.

Yet as long as it remains on,
The moth shall never escape.

For it is in the moth's nature
to always follow the light.

Until the time comes
that the moth is not but ash.