w i c k e d l o v e.

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what would you do for love to be at your hands?

would you kill, would you blame?
even you'll end up in flame

as to trick someone to be yours,
lost with jealous thoughts that burns

to let a witch feel sorrow
to make a young prince furrow

fool mob, she cries
and beg mercy to the orange and lilac sky

the witch as the nun reckoned,
turned to be a black feathered angel, screams
but her voice was drowned with loud cheers

wings the color of charcoal,
but never represents her soul

stretched, flying off to the night
to leave her love for him that's pure as gold.

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