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When A Witch Becomes A Pale

scarce trails to pursue the final tales
I might once quizzed, tested & feeled
Oh, these and observed
Though barely preserved

are my cries
Dispersed transparent rime
Yet strangely I see
assail with stabbing scenes

Thus maladies & their mix
So violently create loathsome tricks
of angles-so twisted
Shape & form the

Through the mind
the sharpness of her nails
Into her thoughts he now sails

Lame and pain
Becomes now the desirable pain
Washed to a pond of
Emptied to a valley of the gifted
of wisdom dried
When a witch becomes a pale
To the beauty of a doubt
A & worn-out

"Here he who never lyed
skill so often hath been tryed
Their prophecies still survive
And ever keep their alive"