Slanderella

She came down screaming, cloaked in flame, A bolt of spite, no soul to tame. From hilltop high she cast her spell— The art of slander, taught too well. They built her shrines in whispered breath, In gossip’s grip, they danced with death. Her tongue, a blade that cuts unseen, Yet worshiped like some vengeful queen. She taught them how to twist the truth, To poison joy, corrupt the youth. No proof required, no facts to weigh— Just sharpened words to flay and flay. I walk beneath her shadowed reign, Each rumor like a drop of rain. It floods my name, it stains my skin, A war I never asked to win. They speak as if their hearts are stone, No warmth, no grace, just undertone. Their minds are mirrors cracked with spite, Reflecting only what’s not right. No thought of kindness, no repair, Just venom laced in vacant stare. They feed on fear, they starve on hope, And swing their lies like braided rope. Yet still I rise, though torn and bruised, Refusing to be so misused. For truth, though quiet, holds its ground— And Slanderella will be drowned.