I worked for a bitch
who made me itch
an itch to scratch out her soul
But the bitch was old
which could account for the cold
way the old witch died in my mind without a twitch

I will never snitch
how I killed the witch
maybe she died in her water-filled basement
her rudeness becoming her encasement
I wear a T-shirt with a silk screen print
that says "death comes to the wicked bitch"

copyright © 2005 by Mari