bewitched moon, bathing in
these falling rays,
gypsy soul, twirling my essence
in thousand ways,
a cauldron on fire, that is filled
to the very brim,
throwing stones, chanting wantonly
just on a whim,
dancing on the wild tones,
seeping madness,
ruffled hairs, with a tiara on,
an enchantress,
red dripping from the lips, smile of
an alluring siren,
making men froze, broken resolves
of steely iron,
she walks, bare feet, on
path of burning coal,
hiss of seduction, or to listen the
hooting of an owl,
a soothing gaze, mesmerizing,
at the end of a fading night,
pieces of puzzles; clicking on places,
that seems all too right,
breathing rage or fire, a nightmare?
or a seductress!
brittle bones, twisted heart, yet
a great actress,
rising smoke, attuned, fearless,
making them all churn,
the granddaughter of the witches,
they couldn't burn!
Author's note:
for all witches who have suffered all along but have survived... you deserved to be praised, held your head high, straighten your shoulders bcz this world needs you, not the other way around...! After all we are granddaughters of the witches they couldn't burn.
.
.
.
from a witch...!
YOU ARE READING
Catastrophe
PoetrySolace and peace those words unknown to me, Chaos in my existence thoughts and mind, I portray them through my words, On the brink of losing myself, Held by a thread with sanity, I am falling toward this Catastrophe...! ¤ I have blended the amalgama...
