16 Nov 2017

a murder.

//
I had all and then most of you; 
Some and now none of you. 

//



to hunt a witch they gather
the pleasure-fiends grappling your insides;
as friends and lovers and parrots they disguise.

"she spoke too freely but said very little" -
"she always woke up with a start, and never slept soundly"

"oh look there she comes, emotions up her sleeves
unkempt hair and loose clothes,
how do you let her walk free?"

a book in her bag, a song on her lips
a spring in her steps she strutted by;

"she did not even look, that self-conceited bitch;
you are right my friend she indeed is a witch. "

the harp flew a 100 yards,
struck her on her spine

she fell on the spot, covered in her blood
the winds picked up her song.

she was a dreamer dreaming of a lullaby;
an insomniac up until the crack  of dawn.

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