I can't even

A Poem by Jane Doe

Die witch

I will spit,
On your grave,
Dear you have me,
Terribly enraged.

Threatening to take,
What's not yours!
Are daft woman?!
I will scream my defiance till my voice is coarse.

You will not have her,
I swear to god if you do,
Nothing, absolutely nothing,
But her will be in the way of me slowly murdering you.

Gruesome, and gore,
I'll make you feel the pain,
Then laugh my a*s off,
Having fun with my little game.

I will cackle,
Then torture you more,
Cause you're nothing but a s**t bucket,
The mother of a f*****g w***e.

Don't you dare say you deserve her,
She's mine, not yours, she's ours,
For I will kick the s**t out of you,
Then ram your head into multiple doors.

Don't you try,
To take my baby girl,
Because not far off am I,
And in my hand a knife, it twirls.