A Jester

A jester you are, Spitting bombs one after another.
Flying around, you pester me without a thought,
Mocking me every so merrily.
 

Thunder roars within your throat
As you slit my soul with each word flying from your lips,
High and mighty you think you are.

 

Yet, you are no king for you are just a homely peasant,
Those who differ are witches in your eyes,
But you have no understanding.

 

To sit and think you must do,
Stop the jesting, Look within your soul and others,
Tell me what you see.

 

Maybe then you might understand,
For you will see me as no witch, but a person
Yearning to be free.