Gretal
by Grace, age 15

She dreamt of ovens
And held out her dirty hand to him
What they thought was sugar
Turned into poison
"Run"
She whispered
"Run"
A cackle rose from inside the house
And she pushed him into the woods
Vowing to remember him
but not what they did
The band-aids on their arms
Protecting them from sin
Memories flashed past
As she squeezed her eyes shut
A boy in a cage with bones
Swinging on the ceiling
Sparkling clothing
And frosting that choked you
Stinging skin and the hum of a camera
Don't remember this
DON'T
Ice cream trucks passing by
Hypnotizing music
Don't read this or
You'll find the gingerbread house
Another cackle rose
Closer this time
Get away from her, boy
Gretal is mine
He kissed her hand and hid
The witch is closer than you think
She had found his name
Under the bowl
In the dirty kitchen sink
Which one would stay
Would one would go
Escaping out
The candycane window
But whether he saw her again
We never found out
All we saw
Were crumbs on the ground.