Witches they are, all around the world,
with special powers that can be hurled,
able of crushing you until you are whorled,
hence you can never trust them to be furled.
Their loyal, innocent looking, treasured beasts,
that prohibit their blameless victims of speaking
that travel to gather fresh human flesh for feasts,
from distant locations you detect preys shrieking
An angry witch means unavoidable bloodshed,
they at no time give up until you drop dead
the sole way to survive is with an arrowhead,
when shot through the heart they forever go to bed.
They cast their most powerful spells over the weak,
spells that deplete fortnights of deep gathering,
for the ingredients used are the most unique,
the spells they create never start slathering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice job, one of the best poems I've read. loved it ;)
Thanks a lot, I felt the exact same way towards your poem 'Beneath The Surface Of The Ocean'.