WiTch....?!?

in a happy house,
they sit like peals of orange.
in their own distant worlds,
obligated to harden.
she tenses to a sprint,
her contrite disguise.
whatever she demands,
has met its demise.
blazing flames consume.
her pixie resolve waver.
she turns to the cross
and crucifies her body.
spilling blood in drains.
her pleasure mountain high;
"Your Jehovah is LOST!
Bleeding crimson from your skies!"
her voice is muffled, low.
they won't even turn to hear.
beautiful in paint,
her insides lurch.
perished and so wasted,
pain won't come to her.
the agony won't go.
she waits for Lucifer.
drop by drop she drains.
tear by tear she laughs aloud.
like an impaled corpse alive,
like a zombie devout.
they just look at her.
see her drip the blood, colored.
they gather haystacks to burn.
"Fate", the witch incurs...
she can't even moan.
she won't even cry out loud.
she won't even yell.
how she loves to die about!
"its strange", they think.
it IS strange, it seems.
its stranger than the strange.
how a strangeness redeems!!