The Cauldron
A witch is a witch, which cannot be switched,
No change can arrange, forever stay strange.
All lies to the eyes, empty dark skies,
Don’t trust, it will rust and end in disgust.
A disease that will please, fill happiness with ease,
Look past just as fast as you are looked past.
Those lips sink ships, sending hearts to the crypt,
I find that you’re blind, no time left to unwind.
A lyre sung by fire, no begging so dire,
You feel what’s not real, use blood as your seal.
You deny, yet cry, just leave it there to die,
Stones and sticks, there’s a wizard in the mix.
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