People came to take Arrabelle’s wares
        her potions and her ointments
        But yet not one of them knew
        that all she thought about was how she was a disappointment

 She came from a line of witches rich in power
         But she could not work spells the way they could
         Instead she kept their legacy alive
         Protecting their grimoires as she knew she should

 Until one day she decided to visit the Sylvan Glade
         She put on her cloak
         Walked miles to the town to try and make some friends
         But nobody spoke

 They ran from her,
         Their faces full of fear
         And she finally remembered
         Why she never came here

 She was horrified at the thought
         That she had scared them all away
         She was so embarrassed
         That she couldn’t bear to stay

 She fled from the town
         Her cape flowing out behind her
         It was only when she was halfway home
         That she realized all the trees in her wake had started to wither

 She had not cast a spell
         Nor had she spilt a potion
         The magic came from within
         Born from pure emotion

 All her life she had wanted this
         To follow her ancestor’s legacy
         But that was when it was only a dream
         Not a reality

 Her hands were trembling
         Her limbs were weak
         She was so afraid of herself
         That she could barely speak

 She stayed up later that evening, casting potions all night
         Until she fell asleep at dawn.
         When she woke up she realized something
         She had succeeded, her magic was gone