Poetry By Willow Dancer

"The Curse"

A gypsies curse is what you've got
steal coins from a blind mans pot,
to pay your way, to tend your need
an idle course to feed your greed.

Limping on a cretin crutch
as fragile as a fairies touch,
shattered dreams lie at your feet
your mask a veil of stark deceit..

Sleep the sleep of wicked woe
tread lightly on the path you go,
goblins breath your scented lies
I see beyond the pale disguise.

Black is black and white is white
a crystal ball with mystic sight,
your heart as dark as raven wing
thrice you reap the witches sting.

Willow Dancer

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