she was
a human shaped
shitstain
an anthropomorphic
maisma of lies
parading her
prized lapdog
a mangy mutt
she insisted
was purebred
a snapping little
twat always just
outside of
kicking distance
raining her rancid
fecal showers
while attempting
to rewrite truth
to fit her
perpetual games

she fancied herself
a spider weaving
a new reality over
the one in which
she did nothing
made no one’s life
a modicum better
except for her own
into an endless tirade
where she is the victim
the only good soul
left in a bad world
a bloated dorothy
queen of nothing
causing chaos while
trying to take over oz
seeking a new crew
to do her bidding
because once the
scarecrow got a brain
her lies fell apart
with the simplest
of examinations