I'm wearing a mask,
And I'm undead,
But there's always a sugar rush for that.

I'm knocking at the door of someone who isn't supposed to be home until I'm ninety.

Lots of people carry knives,
And are covered in scars,
And no one is scared of them.
They're fun, toys, numbness.

I stay up way too late,
Because I can.
And it's scary to go to bed tonight.
After all, there's people with knives.

Have I been describing Halloween?
No.
This isn't a children's holiday.