If you know me, and if you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or Pinterest, then you’ll most likely know that I love Game of Thrones, well who doesn’t right? Even if you don’t read the books, all can agree it’s pretty addictive. Was there anyone NOT talking about what the heck happened with Jon Snow? Is he dead, is he not dead? See…obsession! Well my obsession is not so much with Jon Snow, although Mr. Kit Harington is absolutely adorable…I’m more interested in The Red Woman Melisandre. That being said I wrote a little poem called The Red Witch, lightly inspired by our dear Melisandre.
Check it out below:
The Red Witch
The Red Witch fills her cup
With the blood of serpents and men without honor.
The ruthless demon that lives inside her,
Ate her soul long ago.
No one calls her mother but her creatures,
They lay by her feet as she rehearses her spells.
She calls to us when the blood moon rises,
The souls she takes she keeps for her Dark Lord.
She prepares his meals,
Or feels his wrath.
Blood and tears are served in golden goblets.
Carcasses served on silver platters.
The souls scream through each gulp,
Begging to be reborn.
Souls are best served cold and hopeless.
His belly fat with dim lights.
He rubs the sweat from his brow in dark delight.
The Red Witch has served her King well,
And may return to her wicked duties,
Until she is summoned yet again.
When the blood moon rises,
Hide your kin,
For the Dark Lord is merciless.
He cares not about age, stature, or moral.
Souls are souls, they bleed the same.
He’ll lick the bones clean and pile them below,
His prized possessions from a battle won.
When the Red Witch comes for you,
Say your prayers.
For there is no saviour,
That would dare,
Save your soul above their own.
For in his belly you will remain,
Until the fires burn you up,
And nothing is left,
Not even dust.