Witchcraft

Witchcraft.... Some champion this idea As they sell this notion....Sold! Novel though, it is definately not A twist of lime perhaps To contemporize its design Unto the times.... Always, evolving and adapting This ancient one! Although his days as of late Have been somewhat frantic Chaotic, to say the very least Desperation.... As the sands of his millenniums Quickly, disappear from within his vile! Schreechingly he shouts While the bells of his sorrow They begin to toll.... Taking hold, of all that he may, receive? Clinging, to his very own hopelessness Which he himself, long ago, misconceived Trapped in this crustic bottle Wailing and gnashing These crumbling teeth Slinging his far away dust Fading.... Upon the wake, of his worthless broomstick Worthless, to the eyes, that can truly see!? Beyond all of these his lotions That have chained so many To the concepts.... The longings....And the beliefs.... The potions, that made him, their king! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ....Witchcraft....