The Witch From Fort Lauderdale


As a young boy, I was told countless tales.
Some I had sworn to never unveil...
But dear, there is one that prevails,
And I am left in fear of what it would entail
If it remained unknown, alas
I must tell you the tale
Of the witch from Fort Lauderdale.

She was a poor soul, that one,
With edged claws and hair like straw,
Tainted teeth and a crocodile’s jaw,
Oh! How Lauderdale’s folks despised what they saw!

It was her sole destruction which they sought,
Ever so adamant on having her caught!
So as nightfall struck, the scent of blood was cast,
Filling the air with despair everlast.
Under her rags was a bow, a child’s bow,
And an aura of innocence began to dim its glow.
It was a child with dulling eyes and skin gone pale,
A child who desired to revel life but to no avail.

Indeed a short tale, yet it holds more than it seems.
The key to beauty lies beyond what you first see.
Remember, the witch was far from wicked...
With a ribbon in her hair, she just wished to be free.

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