The Witch

The Witch

By Gwyneth Schloer

 

Her frightful, green face

with warts and boils

and a crooked nose out of place.

 

Hate, neglect, revenge

surge through her cold heart;

a broken life to avenge.

 

Lies spill from her lips:

fat, worthless, and dumb;

my confidence she rips.

 

A drunken rage of

anger, loss, regret,

cause a chaotic rampage.

 

Swallowed by despair,

I grasp for a hand,

but she won't ever care.

 

But in the end

it's her heart, not mine,

that needs a friend.