*Some fictional poetry ~ Enjoy!
Her hands worked the clay
Long spindly fingers display
The age of the clay maker
Up beyond as the trees
Back in her youth she fell She was doomed for hell
She took his life
Then stabbed him more
The crime she made
The plan she had lain
It made no matter now
The end of her life was near
Having served her time
They said God would forgive
But how can he forgive
When she'd do it all over again?
Everyone first revered him
Thought he was grand
But in dark closets
He'd forced her daughter's hand
If to see Satan she was going
Then it might all be well
She'd take delight in his burning flesh
Because nobody would touch her little girl
Without going to hell
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