The ghost, the ghoul, the cat, the witch, the brew

Too scared of life, of things I can’t control:

The hurts, the sadness, all the crashing heads

And limbs and hopes and dreams, events that bowl

Me over, leaving me to mend my shreds.

What if I now become the ghost, the ghoul,

The witch, the zombie, changed before the change

Can do it first, offensive in the pool

Of time, no dip, but plunge into the strange!

So on All Hallow’s Eve, I think I’ll be

A cat with yellow eyes and flicking tail

Or else the witch that brews the special mead

Where just a sip ensures I cannot fail.

The ghost, the ghoul, the cat, the witch, the brew,

Then poof! I’ve straightened life from hopeless skew.

Image: k-atrina

Words: Colornote