Nearly Witches

Here I am,
Composing a burlesque,
Out of where they rest their heads,
Sulking in their splintered cradles.
And ramshakled hands,
They asked for it,
As a boy,
I eat my wishes on golden tooth picks and digested them with wolf intestines,
I fell from the heavens,
As a fetish blessed with,
An operatic skeleton,
And as the stars watch me descend,
I cracked a family tree and,
Chopped off all of the branches