#witch poem

I’m told I come off as Intimidating

(If you start from a point of likely to hit back, they might not throw the first one)

And that it’s Spooky how I always know where you are

(I know people and their mood by their identifying gait, it was the only warning some days)

And that my silent way of walking is something between Creepy and What Are You Trying To Prove

(I know how to cry silently too, without even shaking the bed)

I’m not like that, really.

You might wonder why my precious things are kept in boxes so easily fit into my car, the car that has three days worth of food and clothing at all times. You say I’m like a girl scout, Prepared.

(Prepared is not the same as Frightened by an inevitable future)

I take my shoes off at the door, religiously, but do not require you to also be Barefoot in my house.

(there was a time when I never took them off until he was asleep, or gone)

All those adjectives can be combined into a word that rhymes with Bitch.

So be warned: if you choose to hunt witches, know that this one has been hunted once already

And only one of us is left standing.