She sits upon the windowsill,
her eyes electric blue.
Her long black hair and ruby lips,
can cast a spell, it's true.
Each man that catches just a glimpse,
possesses her with a stare.
She has no interest in such looks,
she really doesn't care.
Her voice can mesmerize you,
her laugh like music chimes.
Some whisper that she is a witch,
her spells are deadly rhymes.
Some claim that they have dined with her,
a demon was their host.
Food served in dishes made of bones,
her butler was a ghost.
She's just a woman, flesh and blood,
there is no mystery.
Who in the past was badly hurt,
a violent history.
She prefers to be alone,
as she practices her craft.
brews a potion that helps you forget,
most people think she's daft.
She sells it cheap to those in need,
and drinks it everyday.
It makes his image disappear,
the memories fade away.
So do not fear, but pity her,
her lifelong love she's lost.
Her homemade potion tried and true,
is always worth the cost.
Once the world and life were hers,
'till love became her curse.
She keeps her thoughts locked in a box,
so her heartache won't get worse.
The filled up barrels wait for her,
a private lifetime supply.
Enough to ease her mind and soul,
as she sits and waits to die.
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