The Witch Poem by Amber Glistener

The wicked witch swings her axe,
It clangs against my skull,
I raise my sword to fight her back,
To find its blade is dull.
She canters here and cackles there;
She darts back to and fro,
She rallies up my enemies,
And follows me where I go.
Her white hair does not shimmer,
Her teeth do not grow black,
Her wrinkly skin does not rot,
There is no hunch in her back.
This witch is not a creature,
Like any on the Earth,
She lives not in existence,
While fire boils in her mirth.
No, witch she is not,
For outside in the world you find,
She is nowhere to be seen,
She’s only in my mind.