The Undying Witch in Reality is never really real.

Does it bubble up inside? Or slowly seethe within

Does it cower down below, And only strike now and then?

Does it hide silently: allowing just enough time to forget?

Is it then it rears it’s ugly head, And cast out its dark net?

Does its cold grip reach for your hidden thoughts, far beneath for what’s inside?

Does its numbing fingers tug and pull, at all the darkest things you try to hide?

You wear your mail of thorns, but to your brethren, we will always know

That the wound inside us, however deep, we fight to never show.

For the numbing cold gives us strength, and the pain a comfortable friend

For we have all danced with that cold broad, time and time again.

When no one’s there to help you in your deepest darkest night

She sings her sweet lullaby, and presents to you a different light

In the darkness we find ourselves, while she cradles us in pain

Our minds slip from their shackles, and are free to roam and reign

There are no lies in the harsh rapture we feel, but Instead a truth untold

For this bright world is rather dreary and really very cold.

The one constant thing in life she is, pain, that cold bitch.

So come my fellow siblings, rejoice under the rule of our undying witch.

-WhisperBubbles