I'm sorry, but I love writing Gothic poems.

The Kiss of Death

Hooded Horrors abound this Night,
Chilling the blood of the enemies in sight,
The Moonlight cast shodows so ominous,
The Night is kissed by Silent Fright.

The growing dread of the Wizarding World,
Is pleasing to the Dark Lord, told,
By his minions and ones in power,
Of coming defeat, all voices cold.

As the sun slips by this evening,
The lucky the sunrise shall be seeing,
For sunrise bears new hope, new promise,
So many have only Misfortune seething.

Futile refuge some have sought,
Either way, they all were caught,
Do beware, as the Moon makes its presence,
The path the Hooded Horrors trod.