Words and a Witch

You.
You whore of a mother.

A cut and faceted diamond would envy you
For the sheer number of faces you have.
But I s'pose, now, it's "the sheer number of faces
You had," because all that has faded,
Rotten and fallen away, leaving
This. This pile of whatever it is you are.

Oh, you thought you saw Dionysus,
When really, it was your own haggard reflection.
And you were that desperate, that horny,
That you believed, truly believed,
It was him. Good job, that.
Shagging an illusion.

I guess you forgot. I guess... I guess not.
But you were part of something, like it or not,
(Personally, I don't) and when you fucked up,
You fucked it up. I am part of "it".
I won't ask you if you see what you've done, because I know
You're either blind or a liar.

Maybe both.

Always been that way, hasn't it?
Playing house with the long-suffering hubby,
Complaining about the children, "oh, these two, I swear,
These two are like a cat and a dog." Or, as you say,
"A dog's arse and chicken shit."
So shoot me. I remember.

I never knew it wasn't right. I never knew...
Oh gods. My chest hurts, there's so much, so much
Hatred in it. I blame you. Of course I blame you.
But I put up with you, didn't I? Didn't Josh?
Frankly the only ones who miss you are Dad
And the spoiled little brat.

I know. It's not his fault he's a spoiled little brat.
But it is your fault for being a horrid bitch.
Horrid, and clever. I've got no scars, but the seeds
You planted in my head have grown,
And they're monsters now. I had to make them
Bleed.

But I was still fine, then.

Until, of course, you took up Poetry.
Rancid, rabid slut, how could you; how dare you?
It was my thing. My thing. You just had to
Shit all over it. Claiming you were the troubled artist
And I was the... the... the chickenscratch wannabe.
To your credit, it stung.

Not so much to your credit, I can make it sting more.
You claim you are a poet, but you don't know
The power of Words. I do.
And while you live in the fantasy you've built with your Words,
I bend and twist the Universe with mine.
Ever heard of Heka?

Don't pretend you do, you just Googled that.

You've ruined a lot of things for me. To be honest,
I sometimes think you've ruined me. Perhaps you have.
I don't think it's normal that I can hate someone this much.
But to admit you've broken me would be too satisfying
On your part. So, no, you've not broken me. Merely exposed me
To the darker side of things.

It's been beneficial for me, this Exposure to the Dark.
Frightened the living shit out of me, sure, and
Driven me to lows I never knew were possible.
But beneficial. Educational, I should say.
I've learned new words.
Words you wouldn't wanna hear.

But you will, probably.

When you do, I'd like you to remember some things.
1. That you are not my mother, though I came out of your cunt.
2. That you have taken so much of value from me.
3. That you have given so little of value to me.
4. That you were right: I am wicked. Always been, always will be.
5. That the Witch in the title is not you.

It's me.


If I cast this one just right... well. Death would seem merciful then.