The prosperity of hatred

The witch

The forgotten relationship

With a distant past

The witch

Allegory of a painful reality

Poise and composure

A dark cloth dragging on the ground

A garden a abravise roses

Sadness ane desillusion incarnate.

 

She chose not to care

Because she couldn’t bear

To get hurt

She is scars and she is damage

Wielding a magic called rage

That boils people’s blood

That leaves a sour taste on your buds

She is fear of death and yet she draws you towards it

A toxic mother

Taking children and bathing them in the murky water

Leaving them drifting on the river

Going nowhere, lost forever

She is the queen

Of the desert of the little prince’s mind

The reason why nothing grows

She feeds the blight that kills the tree

She makes the planet cold and foggy.

She is wrath

Everything she touches

She turns into crystal that so it burst into smithereens

And she loves to put her silky fingers on happiness.

 

But her heart she keeps cold like stone

She is depression and loneliness

She makes the room silent so you can hear your own breath

Until you pray that it stops and call upon death

Bleeding through your veins

She is even worse than the snake

Who slithers away under the sand.

 

She came for the prince and the flower

She came for the tree that has now been dead for an hour

Now the planet is dark

The little prince wants to live and love

But she wants to hate

And blame the world for her fate.

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