In the woods that is our hearts

There live the trees that whisper dark secrets,

The brambles and pumpkins that leer

And the paths shrouded in mist.

Priests and teachers try leading us away,

But crows and skeletons of our past

Dance and grin and hide in shadow and

Lead ghosts to torment us in our sleep.

Those not dragged to their lairs only visit,

The way the Church corrupted the Pagans,

Pretending, dressing, asking for treats,

As though the demons were their idea all along.