This Is Not Our War

As the night went dead,
Silence awoke from the deep she laid
And left a message on every door:
The men were not to get out of bed,
Or send out any maid.
Only the first born could sleep on the floor.
If the doors began to creak,
They were to hide their tongues in their pockets,
Remove their eyes and bury their sockets,
And phase out in temporal breath.
It was the job of the demon to show sign of life
It was his hellish duty.
They would take with them every midwife,
Whose curse would be their beauty.
Darkness was always on his brightest
Standing beside his charm.
Waiting for the moment slightest
To do his favour in harm.
And when the gathering was over,
The morning returned with a sober hangover
And a slit throat.
The spirits just needed anything, anyone to be the scapegoat

Leonell