She is the Witch—a 21st-century queen,
Now the world fears her name, unseen.
Witch, they whisper—poisonous, blowth,
But only Socrates can sip her truth.
The world may claw, but won’t defeat,
She’s too sharp, too wild to beat.
Unyielding, untamed, she stands tall,
Tears them apart—they watch her maul.
A thousand foes lie at her feet,
But none can force her to be sweet
She won’t weep, she won’t fall—
She rips their pride, destroys them all.
Her nails scratch deep through woven lies,
Her teeth bruise those who dare despise.
She doesn't ask for what is hers,
She takes it back with blood and curse.
She bows to none, but to her flame,
Her spirit’s the throne they’ll never claim.
Her gaze, as sharp as a knife in flight,
Tears at their hearts, draining light.
They’ve tried to kill her, time and again,
But she made the graves for every inane.
She smells their envy, tastes their spite,
And spits on bitches lost in the fight.
Soft only when she moves in grace,
Harder than stone when she takes her place.
She is war, she is flame—
She burns alive those who speak her name.
A tsunami of fury, she floods their hate,
Cleanses the filth, resets the slate.
She stands alone, towering high,
Untouched, unshaken—none dare try.
She’s the storm they can’t survive,
The truth that keeps them dead, alive.
Untamed, bloody, a force to stitch—
She is the Witch—they’ll never switch.
