Witch Poem for Halloween
Ugly as a pockmarked corpse,
there is a witch who slinks and warps
little children into her toys,
feeding on their fading noise.
Visage of a Witch
Her hair is sparse, her scalp is cracked,
her boily skin is old and slacked.
When she smiles, flowers die,
dark clouds form and angels cry.
A Witch's Home
She lives within a crumbling hole,
reinforced with bones she stole
from the grave of some old plot,
reveling in its stink and rot.
A Witch's Brew
Her cauldron keeps a bubbling brew
filled with family she once knew.
It helps her speak to souls and ghosts
who take the toys and make them hosts.
When her evil work is done,
she grabs her broom to have some fun.
Into the sky, she soars and screams,
"Have a happy Halloween!"
History of The Witch
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