Witches are born to kill heroes, so mother made me from her darkest spell

To boil the last drop she feared, the blood of the line that sent her to hell

So she made a monster less than me, something after to burn the city

And when I killed it the queen thought me a hero too, something capable of pity.

Of course I said she was my inspiration, destroyer of spell makers so weird

So she introduced me to her boy, this sickly dying thing that mother feared

I was confused but knew it a trick, this cancerous shell to derail mother’s plan

This boy would stop her making slaves of everyone, this weakling not a man?

Mother gave me no name but when he asked—a witch can lie as sweet as wine

I christened myself Rachael and pictured binding my books with his spine

The queen liked that her little jewel had a friend, someone to help him cross the room

This smiling thing so soft and trusting, this boy who would bring my mother’s doom.

I knew not why mother worked so hard, when a gust of wind would lift him in the skies

This line of heroes that had reached its last drop, so weak and sickly this boy with lovely eyes

This thing devoid of evil told me his dreams, to be a good man and better king for his people

When I knew his cancer would kill him sooner than mother’s hatred, nailed to some ruined steeple.

Mother said that heroes knew tricks, his lies that I was pretty and we would be friends forever

But witches are born to kill heroes, this boy who smiled whenever we danced together

The little fool trusted me to help him walk outside the castle, away from his mother’s apron rings

Where we sat by the midnight pool and he said he had no hatred for anyone or magical things.

Of course I kissed him to stop him talking, delay his trickery to get inside my head

For mother said heroes are most cunning, this last drop who would see my torturer dead

I do not fear the spells of heroes eyes as mother does, this smiling boy most brave

For he holds my hand without shaking and does my dead heart good from its grave.

Now even the queen is amazed at his recovery, his cancer apparently driven away by sheer will

But mother would be appalled if she knew my treason for a witches kiss cures all ills.

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