• raised from birth she was,
    in the band of gypsies,
    traveling far and wide,
    from the day of her birth she was taught,
    taught the art of fortunes,
    crystal balls,
    runes,
    many forms of fortune telling,
    and she was versed in all,
    when the day she came of age,
    she said her farewells,
    traveling to earn her keep in the world,
    for many days,
    and for many nights,
    she traveled the world,
    sensing the auras of life around her,
    when one day it called to her,
    it called,
    the place she must stay,
    the money she earned,
    was barely enough,
    enough to cover the high price of the basement,
    but it was well worth the cost,
    the cost of her life,
    this is where my life will end,
    she said,
    for many years she kept her business going,
    when on a day of most bad weather,
    out from the streets comes a man,
    a fright to behold,
    but a customer none the less,
    "good day to you my man what can i help you with?",
    asked the woman,
    "to tell my fortune whether it be good or ill",
    he replied,
    a darkness befell the shop,
    but on her way she worked,
    many minutes passed,
    "not a thing you'd be wanting to hear"
    she said,
    'i dont care",
    he retorted,
    "in less than a fortnight,
    a great misfortune you will encounter,
    for knowledge is your enemy,
    be well for you to be wary"
    so the fortune told,
    "bah rubbish",
    scoffed the man,
    "what a load of bull"
    he finished,
    many days past,
    nearing the day of prophecy,
    a dark feeling grew to her,
    but still she sat,
    on the day of her dark reading she closed up early,
    took down her sign,
    packed all of her things,
    "it is time for me to move on",
    she said,
    with her pack ready,
    and her things packed,
    in the middle of the room she sat,
    the clock struck twelve,
    and a racket to be heard,
    heard form the door a terrible shout,
    "come out you b***h,
    this is all your fault",
    with a bang of the door,
    he came plowing in,
    a knife in his hand,
    and the smell of booze on his breath,
    on her floor she sat,
    thinking to herself,
    "yes its about time i move on",
    up she stood to face the man,
    "it was your own fault,
    you asked me to tell"
    she said,
    "you could have stopped you whore"
    he yelled,
    "my wife left me for another,
    you could have stopped it all!"
    "wrong"
    she said,
    "fate is not one to change his mind so easily",
    enraged he was,
    eager to be done with her
    with one foul jab of the knife,
    she fell,
    "yes",
    she said,
    "its about time i move on..."