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Image for the poem Her Rose Stained Hands

Her Rose Stained Hands

In the bosom of the mountain calling
A foreign spirit forced to crawling
Women swarm the fire of her hand
Burning brighter under cursed command
She sends the northern deserts rain
She spreads her dress to stake her claim
And with a whisper of her breath
The demons rise to answer death
And all her sisters gather around
They talk to trees and trample the holy ground
Sing your songs to her alone
Bow to her terrestrial throne
For in their circle they make a stance
The witches perform their religious dance
The spirits teach the ways of the wood
They are cleansed in the name of sisterhood
Now they abide her desert way
Under her staff never lead astray
But it is here that fate will fall
Unless they break satanic call
She flees into her tent of red
She begs her starving soul be fed
And in her hand she opens the portal
With her sharpened knife water spilled from a mortal
She pled a witch would never waive
Now her allegiance sent to the grave
There's no place her magic stands
She cannot wipe her rose stained hands
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