The bare bones of those who've died
quiver and rattle inside their tombs.
For it's their souls that they've heard cry
to replace their bones inside their wombs.
It is tonight the bell doth toll,
for wayward spirits scattered bout.
In haste, through darkness they doth troll,
for hopeless reunions I have no doubt.
These wants come but once a year,
to hide among the living ones.
Tricks and treats mask childish fear
a yearly haunt disguised as fun.
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