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.

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