Dark Poems

The Witches

-The Witches-

They have messy hair
Their clothes worn and tear.
Finger nails as long as quills
Four sisters live in the house on the hills.

Cursed they were, people say
Mysteries of the names no one dare say.
They make potions and recite spells
Some rumors say they emerged from a well.

Don't you dare say their names
Or they'll appear quicker than you came.
Your cause of death would be by magic
No doubt it that it wouldn't be too tragic.

Those witches they are the four of them
The evil ghosts of Devils condemned.
That's who they are, what they are
Witches