July 2012
So many stalkers and so little time
We are the new army of the living dead,
Stumbling around behind her,
Brainless as zombies,
Not completely sure of what has happened To us,
did the house land on
the witch or on us,
and where are the ruby slippers that come
with the privilege of being with her,
or do we get a broomstick to ride rather than a wand,
confused regardless of just how we got here
and if we ever will get back,
still clutching the smart phone at night
for a vibration that will never come,
I am she, and her three company
Entangled as one, the girl, the witch
Who hate lack of brains or heart or courage,
While I wish I could click my heals
And get back to a place of sanity
When I know I can’t.
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