We are the saints
We were baptized in darkness
And our souls brewed with black blood
And fed to the dark nights.
What had happened;
We took the baptism,
Demons rose from their tombs,
They were smoky red,
Without foots riding black horses,
The whirlwind worsened,
The doors wiggled tremendously,
Pots fell from their hanger,
The gleaming bulbs twitched until it was black out.
We sealed the door with a spell,
We held out our hands making some hocus-pocus,
But they got in without any difficulty,
And moved towards our gathering.
We all began panicking,
We had done a baptism we knew not much about,
We couldn’t call for help,
We were in the middle of nowhere.
We all separated to hide,
We went through the library and basement,
We heard a familiar voice crying out in pain,
We became three suddenly.
We had to figure out the right hocus-pocus,
But we couldn’t,
There came another voice and another voice until I could only hear mine.
We were all fed to the dark nights.
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