The Witch of the Night.

You all think of the same old witches with a broomstick and makes potions, but this witch is far more sinister...

I lay there at night, on a cold winters evening,

And all I hear, is the wind howling and growling,

I'm scared, I'm shaking, today is the day,

For one of our lives, shall be taken away.

She's cruel, and gruesome, with no heart at all,

We praise her: she  overrules everyone, big or small.


You're never alone, you walk afraid and scared,

Briskly in the deserted streets of our urban town.

You hear footsteps following you, so you quicken your pace.

But you can't help but turn around, and then you see that face...

Her curly, golden locks and her large, glistening eyes,

And all you can hear then, are the yelps and cries.


She slaughters you and murders you in such a cruel way,

Chopping your limbs clean off, mutating your face,

Twisting your body round and stretching you out,

And all you can do is just scream and shout.

But she'll mute your voice, so you say nothing,

Then dump your dead body, cackling and laughing.


These thoughts, they can't help but just rush through my head,

I don't know if I'll ever even be able to go to bed.

I sweat and I toss and I turn and quietly shriek,

And hide under the covers by even a tiny creak.

Just then! A cold bony hand grabs me, giving me a fright!

Oh please, great witch of the night!

Please, will you just spare my life?

The End

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