Same Stew Brewing
Four years later, it's hard to hate her,
And yet the blisters blossom away;
It doesn't mean loving is any easier,
Than it was on that painful day.
In the darkness it's easy to harness,
The mood of a brewing old witch,
Four years later, the same stew brewing,
Always ripping with every new stitch.
In the morning my mind begins sorting,
The emotions of the previous night,
When I ponder the pain and the envy:
This vain vampire with a casual bite.
Four years later, it's no debate- her
Views will always be malignant it seems:
I'll slip in a few drops of poison myself,
Destroying her presence only in dreams.
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