With a purple witch.
On a broomstick,
cackling way up high in the sky
on her broomstick.
Halloween is soon to come she thinks.
Her cauldron has been leaking with
power and rage.
It's ready, ready for All Hallow's Eve.
and so is she. She leaves her post,
and flies back home.
Where the werewolves howl
until dawn.
Now, Now is good.
For potion brewing
and making stew.
So she goes inside to her cauldron.
Where the green light is glowing
and her face shines above it.
Now. Today. She cannot
wait.
She will suffocate.
She takes a sip,
and lets the goo drip
off her chin..
She transforms and howls with pain.
Because she too is a werewolf.
And then she runs in the night with her
pack,
and they never lack self-esteem.
Because they are the creatures of the Night.
