We Were Two Little Gal Pals

Trinkets - dainty and old.

Wristlets - on them, was gold.

In ringing, voices, we were told-

"Don't listen to demons manifold."

Trinkets - we were at an antique shop.

Wristlets - the charms were on a hop.

In ringing, voices, that were cropped,

We heard the demons too - nonstop.

Trinkets - I was with my friend.

Wristlets - we would borrow, would lend.

In ringing, voices, that would send

Echoes all over the dusty terrain.

One, two, three and a half,

We were cursed, and they all laughed.

We were young and they were ancient.

We wore matching clothes, for the fiends.

They called us little witches,

Sum of our mothers' genetic glitches,

Dancing under the sky, dancing under the stars,

We knew we loved, and we knew they were harsh.

Friends, pals, mates, confidantes,

They thought we were too close.

But, like everything under the sun,

They needed to blame, to point, to choose.

So, they chose us to blame,

When the village burnt down.

They took our maiden names,

Made us heretics; so we ran.

Trinkets - we were two girls.

Wristlets, we exchanged as pals,

Were ringing, with voices, metal and bygone walls.

We were three, two besties, and we were free, to destiny.