Of A Poem I Wrote:
If ever you see her along the streets,
Call her Lucy,then send her a fist.
Under that face there sits a beast,
Hungry and starving,and flesh she feasts.
 
She has no horns,she has no fir.
And despite her name, i call her Lucy-fer.
For she threatens and decieves like Lucifer,
So when she comes around,we all scream,"It's her!"
 
Nice she might seem,and polite she might be,
But under those disguises are vengeance and deceit.
A witch she is,but she lacks is a stick,
To fly around the school compound and make us all fall sick.
 
"Bitch!Bitch!Bitch!" we yell.
She ignores us all,as bitchy as hell.
So we wrote on our foreheads what we want to tell,
We hinted and shouted,but nothing rang a bell!