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A haunted horseshoe,
Into the cauldron to stew,
heart of kangaroo,
Sizzles in there too,
Turns the faintest powder blue,
Last stir, that will do.
Yet these are fantasies that were never true.
And based on those lies, crimes we can’t undo.
Burning and hanging and drowning, all undue.
For a witch was just a woman, who couldn’t be controlled.
For a witch was just a woman, who didn’t fit your mould.
Now think to the future, where women are still sold.
We’re still told,
We can’t be bold.
Without struggles of olde.
Now think to the future. How do we change the future?
I really enjoyed writing this.