M I S S
S A R S P A R E L L A
W I T C H
When I think of my goodness - my inherent nice -
I imagine a wicked witch inside me.
She is pure evil (crooked nose and hunched back)
Once she had blood red lipstick dripping from her lips
As she handed people
Sweet, juicy apples from her shiny, black handbag.
She scares the hell out of me.
We're starting to get aquainted, teaching each other
Slowly, suspiciously, sussing each other out, soon
We may look each other in the eye.
I might be falling in love.
I call her Sarsparella (very witchy, very sexy, very fizzy)
She makes me giggle now
When I see her treading through the forest, poisoning small people.
We're so different, but we have a higher connection.
Even when I talk to the mirror, asking myself the hard ones, she is still more honest.
by Nicole Lee
.
.
.
