Demons and ugly
things they whisper
a witch with a hump
that hissed with a lisp, her
yellow eyes sparking
the hate and the spittle
Believe me you don't want
a tour of my little
beehive wobbling
on my shoulders
bound with iron
full of boulders
Got so sick of the demons
I dreamed of the bomb
a spectacle that
didn't shut them up long
what
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