One thing the witch knew was that the world was on fire, in those days that her tale is about.
Her tale that is being told,
with all the horrors along the way.
She had been breathing the ashes,
and she had lost a fingertip while picking up the shards
of things.
And why is it worth telling of this?
Of these times of mourning,
and of howling?
Of these moments that were glass breaking,
or were a scream?
Is it worth it,
only to find all the other broken hearts
and for them to feel
a little less lonely in their
despair?
Is it a last message to the void?
Or is it
that there in the shadows something is hiding?
Hiding in those shadows
cast by the flames of those moments
that feel unreal?
The witch giggles into her fuming pot.
„Sometimes, the shadow smiles back.“
And that was it!
That made it possible
to breathe in the ashes
and for shards to cut through skin,
for pain to be part of the waiting
to catch that smile again.
That smile of that dark figure meaning death that lives with the shadows.
That smile of a dark someone able to love a witch.
The witch would endure anything to see that smile once more.
„And that‘s how people survive Dystopia“, Layla whispered into our pot with the hot chocolate in it. „Just give them a smile that touches the heart.“
And I think that is worth telling about, even if it gets unbearable along the way.
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I remember standing on the same field where I spent most of the past unnerving months. Listening to the same three accords throughout a song reminded me of time passing, of the feeling of spending time with people while doing something special together. Studying for an exam, rehearsing a song, going on a trip -…
Of memories and ashes
Once you were thereTwo minutes afterWith coffee and rainI will rememberThe way that we wereThe world has felt whole. Once we were thereIt was a ThursdayWith tea and a smileI will always rememberIt made me forgetThat the world has got holes. I want this to beThe one thingTo hold on toTo fill up the holesWe…
Mistress witch writes 