poems. this is a little poem I wrote for a writing exercise one day. the story it belongs to has long since been forgot, but this poem remains on my hard drive. I only wonder what the story of it is.
Witchhunt
It’s a witchhunt, a witchhunt,
Come on down to the sea.
It’s a witchhunt, a witchhunt,
Burn what shadows used to be.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
She’s slimy, slithery,
Never true.
She’ll twist your eyes
To see bright blue.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
She’ll play with your heart,
Caress your soul.
She’ll take you alone,
On her little stroll.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
You dream she takes you flying
On her nightmare broom of dreams.
She needs you like the blood in her veins
And her magic is all part of your machine.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
She’s got you now
Your body, mind, and soul.
But there’s tears in that white gown
And that one awkward mole.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Her magic holds you
keeps your desire aflame.
Yet it all comes crashing down
With each loveless claim.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
It’s a witchhunt, a witchhunt,
You’ll never see her cry.
It’s a witchhunt, a witchhunt,
Burn her till she dies.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
The love it seems is withering
her spells done cast nearly broke.
You catch her smile
And think you may have provoked-
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Yet her haunting smile remains
Too perfect all the same.
Her red lips drip like crimson
And they cackle at your name.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
You’ll never see what’s coming,
You never will.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
It’s a witchhunt, a witchhunt,
Burn them things away.
It’s a witchhunt, a witchhunt,
Take me back to yesterday.
