Inky Souls

We walk on our own,
In the Witching Hour,
Painting the world a dark black,
With pens in our hands,
And cats at our heels,
And midnight pitch cloaks on our backs,
Grimoires of parchment,
And runes in our bags,
And keys linked to chains on our wrists,
You may call us wizards and witches and hags,
But we're inky souls with a twist,
We walk with the weight of the world from our shoulders,
Lifted by glory of night,
Our mana and powers drawn from the deep dark,
While you all take shelter in light.