Somewhere in the darkest hours, a poem

Somewhere in the darkest hours ghosts come out to play, joined by goblins, witches, monsters, and demons on the way. evil lurks in their mist, waitng for their moment. when it comes they strike at us like a moving comet when they leave we lay afraid, shaking in our beds. they leave behind their different marks vivid in our heads, so when the clock strikes three am and the witching hours sounds, dont bother locking up your house cuz not matter what evil is abound.