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“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,” Yet add thereto, with thunderous might, Mortar bombs for drone's dark flight.
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Once upon a midnight dreary while she walked, weak and weary, bubbles falling and frothing inside, her master floated searching high. her body was no longer her own and the cauldron of a gut made itself home. For a walking cauldron she had become, and her work was done nevermore
🔞 LordTwot | Moved away
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