HALLOWEEN
In the middle of autumn,
When the leaves,
Are falling down of the trees,
When the clouds,
Have conquered the sky,
And the storms,
Are waiting for the next murder,
For the next war,
For the next trial,
The spirits are waking up of their thombes,
The witches are waiting for the last fight,
To blow the candles out,
To switch off the light,
To make the Demon,
King of this night,
To make the black holes,
The army of this dusk.
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