she is out there
somewhere in the fog
that hovers over this city
so damnably silent and dark
while in my head
there is no quiet to be found
my thoughts clamor as if
they are an army sent to destroy me
and again i find myself awake
so cursedly awake
beyond the witching hour
oh what witches are out there
hiding in the fog like her
waiting to whisper sweet nothings
into the ear of the next poor soul
who is betrayed by beauty
beauty that burns the eyes
and scorches the soul
and turns what was once a sane man
into a howling animal
for here i howl into the fog
like a lunatic escaped from the asylum
cursing and shouting her name
with disgust and desperation
with remembrance in my heart
and painful lessons in my brain
all at once i feel it
i feel the war that rages on in my veins
between hatred and love
and for the life of me
i cannot make up my feverish mind
i cannot seem to understand how
there is a witch roaming freely in the fog
and yet i am the one
being burned alive at the stake