A trail of bread crumbs to the witches house,
through the forest that haunted that strange little town.
she was never quite loved-
that lone confectioner.
pushed to the outskirts
by those that live for white picket fences
and the grass growing green and even.
When the authorities came by,
they found two kids, fat and happy,
but not by the hand of the woman.
There was no cage in the house made of sugar;
for what sweetened cage could hold a child?
No, the once fragile and beautiful house
that glittered like spun glass,
sat eaten and worn at the loss of her owner
for little old ladies do not devour children,
but children will **** for candy.