Bitterness
Blue-speckled frogs shoot arrows at her
They think she is a pole
Something to be stuck to when it snows
When the cold makes numb the skin
When the blizzard makes blind the eyes
When the howling and croaking unite
The screeching makes her ears bleed
When she can cover them, it makes her nose bleed
It stains the white ground with disdain
They will wreath it with holly to make Christmas
And alone she will sit
Wallowing in front of a fireplace
Naked beneath a blanket
Wondering how the window was broken
Several rocks with several notes attached
They fly in, accusing her of witchcraft
The plague of blue-speckled frogs was hers
Because they surely did not try to kill her, too
But pretty fools, you cannot see her sores
She has cuts from a wind she cannot see
She has scars from burns in the cold
You raised the devil in your hate for her
No act of martyrdom will save her now
And no iron stakes will save you.
keep it up!
