Escaping the witches cauldron


Here I sit in your cauldron
Obsidian black and heating up
Here I sit I watch you spellbinding
Other poor victims over time.
I smell your wicked intentions
I Keep her wondering what evil lives here
I smell the odoriferous rancour
Of decay and musty foulness.
There is a bittersweet tang of death
One of previously boiled flesh
The hag with putrid breath
Draws near with her sharp fangs
And knotted grey and black hair
With insects crawling in there
Evil personified without a care
Go up against her if you dare
And be transported to simply share
A life of torment and suffering
I feel now the water boiling
I await my time await to strike
I hope yet to strive and survive
But the cauldron has a spellbinding hold on me
And is designed not to let me free
And I feel myself melting by degrees
Slowly, slowly I succumb to my fate
Death is near and the afterlife awaits
Which I gladly embrace as I turn to spirit
I see the door and I walk through it
And as the witch cackles at what she is doing
I use my spiritual energy to strike at her heart
I strike her by degrees in half with a spirit shaft
So putting an end to her witchcraft.

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