for she if she ever lived
was not foe, fay or friend
hands tied cross a witches spire curst their names with neither lust or desire
words that flowed upon her lips cold as fire as it reach the tips – of their ears like a devils kiss

in her blood lies a gypsy soul
in their hearts lies a fear of old
around the fire they curse a name
of blood and ash and witches blood – or so they say

in the dark on a cursed wind
in field of crosses
not one a witch
except the girl within the crowd

she cursed their souls as her nurse maid burned
a curse that made the ashes churn
as it fell as if rain – they now bear the witches shame  
as you walk past the grave do you hear them call your name
                                                                                           cj.beamish

this has nothing to do with me lol it’s just random just felt like…writing i guess

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