Witchcraft

She sits in her room,
Thats all black.

The demons, you can see them,
Crawling on her back.

In her lap a book,
Of many spells.

But shhh,
Your not supposed to tell.

The cuts in her arm,
The result of this craft.

But still she wants more,
Always more.

For two yeas she went on,
With no one knowing a word.

This witchcraft of hers,
That I find really absurd.

Finally, one day she stopped,
Oh what a relieving thought.

But know the dragon fang,Is on her door.
The enemy won’t take it,Her saying no.

He tries threatening her with death,
But she doesn’t give a heck.

She’s got nothing to live for,
Or so she likes to say.

She’s finished, and that’s final.
God help it not to be just another of her recitals.

Help her not to go to witchcraft anymore.

Hell, help her to throw,
The stupid thing out the door.

It’s a risky game,
And she shouldn't’t be playing it.

Her name is on my heart.
That’s why I wrote this from the start.

I’m trying to help her see,
There is so much more to life,

Then those stupid things.
J.P.G