Shadow stalkers of the night, hunting the grounds.
Mysterious creatures seek something more.
On nights when the wind blows no gust
And the air speaks no sound,
They fly into the twilight and feast on the darkness,
Searching for anything to harness.
Winged beasts of the shadows swarm the roads,
Trees, rooftops, and chimneys, (anyplace with energy.)
Feathers falling everywhere cover everything
And everyone who’s there at the time.
They hide on the dark side of trees,
Where their beady eyes can watch their victims,
Whispering names in the hours of darkness,
Calls out to those whose souls have reached their end.
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