UPDATE: MISSING PERSON • Nicole Haggarty • Stratford, Ontario
Please help spread the word about missing Nicole Haggarty out of Stratford, Ontario.
UPDATE: We are very pleased to announce that Nicole Haggarty is safe and has made contact with her family. Many thanks to public for their assistance.
STRATFORD — The Haggarty family is asking for the public’s assistance in locating missing Nicole Haggarty out of the Stratford area.
Nicole was last seen on December 3rd, 2016, when she said she was taking the train wherever it would take her.
Her family is concerned for her safety.
Nicole is described as:
• Gender: Female
• Eyes: Brown.
• Hair: Shaved.
• Height: 4’11”.
• Weight: 100 lbs.
Have any information? If you have any information in regards to Nicole’s whereabouts, you are being asked to contact Angela Haggarty at [REMOVED].
If you wish to remain anonymous with your helpful information, you are more than welcome to call Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477, or submit your tip online at tipsubmit.ca.
Thank you for your efforts in helping spread the word about missing people like Nicole across Ontario. We ask that you share these reports on all social media platforms in order to reach the broadest local user base as possible.
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Terry I read all your poems as Nicole’s sister I was the one behind the missing persons
My sister is on the run
Google her name
Something sexual in public assault 3 cops n tried taking his gun
So she has to fly under the radar
The sooner they catch her the better I’ll sleep at night
I know where she is
She only will respond if you send her money
Nicolehaggarty@gmail.com
She will take everything the wrong way
But email her she will get it
That Jen did she really hurt animals n babies?
I’ll have girls watch for her when she goes in if true
Happy birthday to you
Are you an addict or ex ?
You like to buy cheap sex? What’s your roll here?
I’m well aware what Nicole is up too.
She’s far past anything I can help her with
I don’t trust her with good reason
I have no money to enable her so no reason to respond to me
She drains my poor mother every other day with her cries n lies so my mom goes into debt supporting her habit
It’s so wrong
Nicole was spoiled very much
Too much
She became entitled
N the drugs well she couldn’t handle them like most
Now Satan owns her
As her sister I keep tabs on her I do it for my parents and cuz I’m still her big sister
I gave you her email
Join my fb rather then post on missing persons k
I’ll add ya
I’ll watch for you
Angela Jean Haggarty anghaggarty@gmsil.com
Careful with her, she’s an addict n loyal to one thing only
Her next fix
So keep that in mind when you reac out to her
I just came from dukes funeral
Heather looked nice actuslly join my fb and you see her
I grew up with Chris n heather but their a generation above me
I’m only 40 their 50 plus
My sister 36
K add my fb
Thanks for caring
Sincerely
Ang
Nicole is a very cute, sweet, honest, loveable, -and tremendously troubled- girl. I ‘found’ her, but apparently it was about a year too late. Last Nov/Dec. I met a girl who was rambling incoherently, and had a penchant for playing in traffic. Little did I know that this was symbolic of how she lived her life, in general. I pulled her out of the road, to avoid being hit by oncoming vehicles, a few times that night. I could barely understand a thing she was saying, and I walked away from her, hoping she would be okay, as a truck was headed towards her, she danced in the street, refusing to move. She seemed to be a wild, wacky, fun girl; she laughed a lot, made me laugh and feel good, and I hoped I would see her again. The first few times I seen her she would only communicate in a confused babble, and laugh. This was kind of cute, but made me wonder how she could get through life like that. Later, I discovered much to my astonishment, that not only could she speak coherently, but she was a well spoken, and intelligent girl. Apparently she was just having a bit of an ‘episode’ when I originally met her. I have since gotten to know her a bit, and think she is a very nice person, but has incredible obstacles in life holding her back. She does seem to be on a crash course of self-destruction, but doesn’t seem motivated, or to care enough, to change her path. I have tried to help Nicole out, and would love to help her make a positive change in her life. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem she is making much of and effort to do so herself. I’ve learned that you can’t ‘help’ someone who doesn’t want help, or care enough about themselves to try. I think Nicole is an incredibly worthwhile person with lots of potential, but she has to believe that herself. She has what she perceives as insurmountable obstacles to overcome, and perhaps doesn’t believe it’s worth the effort to even try-that, saddens me. Every now and then, someone will come in to the periphery of your life, even if just briefly, and change and affect it, even if they don’t realize they have done so. Nicole is one of those people. Anything I’ve done for Nicole was just my way of paying her back for helping me. I’ve valued every minute I’ve spent with Nicole and know that I’m a better person for knowing her. I’m a fairly boring person, we don’t have much in common, and don’t share the same, uh ‘hobbies’. That is a testament to her being a nice person; she put up with me forcing my way into her life, uninvited and never once told me to get lost, even if I was bothering her. What a saint! –uh, that might be taking things a bit too far-ha-ha! I’m not sure if I will be speaking to her again, but if not, I’ll just say – Thanks, Nic!
This is a poem, which is part of a much longer poem that I am working on, which is tentatively entitled ‘Another wasted day’. It was inspired by a girl I know who suffers from depression and possible substance abuse issues. She will keep herself secluded away from the world not wanting to go outside, and drink heavily to forget her sadness, and how she has thrown her life away. This section of the poem I have entitled Masques. It was inspired by seeing pictures of her on the internet where she uses makeup to change herself into different people or portray different emotions. It has nothing to do with Nicole, but upon re-reading it, perhaps it does…
Masques
Looking at yourself in the mirror
Can be a difficult thing to do
You might just have to face
The person staring back at you
She sits at her makeup table
And paints Masques upon her skin
That way she won’t have to face
The real person that lives within
She wears a Mask of Happiness
Whenever she wants to pretend
That she’s really doing just fine
And show the world outside
That she’s feeling joyous once again
But behind this painted sickly grin
Only she knows the deep sadness
That she truly feels within
When she seeks sympathy from people
She wears her Mask of Self Despair
Friends and family have long abandoned her
So there’s no one left to care
She wears her Mask of Rage whenever she feels betrayed
Or perceives that unkind words have been spoken
Her feelings and ego as fragile as a Tiffany vase
Yet far more easily damaged and broken
Her Masks of Anger and Hatred
Reserved for all that have done her wrong
Masks of Sorrow and Sadness
That she’s worn for far too long
A Mask of Self-Loathing
A horrific Mask of Fear
A Mask of Self Deception
A well-worn Mask of Tears
A cruel Mask of Sadistic-Self-Abuse…
They’re all kept hidden away
Within her makeup tray
And will come out when
She feels she needs their use
It seems my writing gets me into trouble. Two of the girls that inspired some of these previous poems are no longer speaking to me, and may very well hate me as a result of this. I suspect Nicole might be the next person to be added to this ever growing list. None of these are exactly ‘love’ poems. I happened to see a post on Nicole’s sister Angela’s Facebook page, regarding Satan and God, regarding the use of drugs. It got me thinking of freewill, and people taking responsibility for their own actions, and not pointing the finger of blame at anyone else, including ‘God’ or ‘Satan’, assuming these characters even exist. It also got me thinking about Nicole and some of the things she said to me. I’ll just stress that this is a fictional story inspired by Nicole, and is NOT about her! I also recall Nicole saying on more than one occasion, that she thought this missing person page was put up as a way of publicly humiliating her. I don’t think that was ever the case, but I’m afraid she may think I’m jumping on that band wagon. I don’t have a lot of impulse control myself, so I’m going to go ahead and post this even if I think it’s not the most prudent thing to do! Nicole was an incredibly, nice, sweet, girl and I wish the best for her, wherever she may be.
Possessed
An evil entity has entered her
She is no longer in control
It has taken possession over
Her body, brain, and soul
A malevolent force so unkind
She is no longer in control of
The thoughts within her mind
A roller coaster of regrets
Racing around in her head
Endlessly whispering to her
She’d be better off dead
She long ago gave up
On the American dream
There’s no rainbow’s end
Or pot of gold, to be seen
No hope of living happily ever after
No chance for white picket fences
Just frequent institutional visits
And lengthy prison sentences
She dreamed of having kids
And being a loving wife
Being homeless and alone
Is now her only way of life
Picking up cigarette butts
Sleeping on the ground
Looking in dumpsters
For a meal to be found
She thinks Satan is the puppeteer
That is now pulling her strings
Making her to do all of these
Once inconceivable things
She is the chief engineer
Of her life’s construction
Paving this roadway to
Her own self destruction
She has lost everything she ever had
And feels she has nothing left to give
No longer believes she has a free will
And can think of no reason left to live
It robbed her of a happy life
It then possessed her mind
It made her waste too many years
Of all her precious time
She wanted to put an end to her life
But could not pull the trigger alone
She figured suicide by cop
Would be the safest way to go
She ran up to a cop, grabbed his gun
Then threatened to shoot him dead
Another officer unloaded six rounds
Of bullets straight in to her head
This malevolent possessor
Of her body, soul and mind
Was not a demonic deity
It was nothing of the kind
This evil entity was not Satan, nor the Incubus
It was something she believed to be innocuous
This evil trickster wore a friendly disguise
She willingly let it in, and believed all of its lies
Beneath its kindly benevolent mask
It revealed the malevolent face of death
This ‘harmless’ drug called Crystal Meth
This IS her sister Angela
I recieve notifications EVERYTIME you post
I don’t mind, I’m glad she has a friend who thinks about her.
Most have long given up, not cuz they didn’t care but cuz she never.
As for the girls whom inspired your poems they should be flattered
But most can’t handle the truth
As for God n satans legion, I used to do satans bidding many many moons ago
But in my jail cell Jesus came and my life has never been the same
I am just finishing ten years of treatment healing schooling etc celibacy vow
Once Satan can’t pull me back he pushes you forward (he did just as predicted)
Once that doesn’t work he goes after your loved ones
(Nicole in this case)
God has a HUGE Calling on my life , he always has
That’s why I’m not doing life or dead
Addiction is a family problem, one may use but the rest suffer cuz of it
Do to my sisters actions ‘sucicide by cop’ she is now on the run
She said in my only email she will run for the rest of her life
Our mother is enabling her and carrying her and it’s breaking our family
But she can’t stop herself cuz without sending her money to punish them she would never call or write
My sister has a job now and it’s manipulating my mother for thousands
It’s hard to watch my parents suffer….
But this is what happens when you spoil a child n give them no disapline
They grow up feeling Intittled and on a pity trip
My sister is VERY smart….. She knows how to play the crazy card or pity card
She isn’t operating her vessel anymore
Satan owns her ( his legion of entities) so my sister is in there somewhere but whatever is said written or done is for drugs period
Nothing is sincere ….
I did the missing persons cuz she ran away and everyone was scared she killed herself
So I did this to find her and 3 days later she WAS found in Guelph
…..
She had a posh life
Spoiled coddled never abused neglected or hurt
TBH I try to get my mom to let her hit bottom or she will die and she will have held her hand into the ground
Now my mom is an addict
Not of drugs but enabling Nic
Keeping her from turning tricks or going to jail
Like I already mentioned it was in jail I hit my bottom and got saved
If you pray I ask you this
Pray she hits bottom and gets arrested and spends at least a year in jail
It is at this point the ONLY chance at her surviving
When I went to jail my parents took my son
Therefore Nic no longer the baby
So she’s subconsciously or conciously punishing them
N it’s working
She IS killing them
Slowly and painfully
And all I can do is watch n pray for the day she hits bottom and Jesus comes to her
I was in way deeper then her
Differently though
I was a drug boss and I’ve been charged 4x with forcible confinement
Agh assault 6x att murder administering assault police
Etc I’ve walked on 3 juries but I e done just under 6 years from age 14-32
I’m going to be 43 in a few short weeks
I am a grama now, and I care full time for my dying grama
I was an outreach worker that I quit to move home n try to save my broken family
I don’t have the time to waste my time playing satans games
That includes the addicts cry
Blood or no blood
You wanna die then I can’t stop you nor will I chase you
You choose life and I’ll do anything I can to help you succeed
Ok terry
I’m going back to sleep
God speed
PS thank you for caring about my sister
As for the poems
Keep writing but leave them anonymous not about one addict or the other
You have a gift
Keep writing
Maybe choose more pleasant topics?
K till next time
God speed
Ang
Well Angela, I’ve decided to put up another poem, and this one, you partially inspired-at least the title, and a couple of words. I took your advice and wrote something about addiction that wasn’t about anyone in specific. It could apply to anyone who is struggling with their demons, be it gambling, alcohol, or drugs. I woke up from a dream this week, where I saw the first line of the poem- ‘I’m your raison d’être’, and then quickly wrote the rest. I debated on changing this, as I didn’t think everyone who read it would understand. It’s a French phrase, that loosely means ‘the most important thing in your existence’. I decided to leave it as is, as I thought it was appropriate. As most people know, an addict’s substance of choice becomes the most important thing in their life, to the exclusion of almost everything else. I don’t know whether Nicole -or anyone else for that matter-is reading this. This is rather dark subject matter, but it seems I’m incapable of writing happy, optimistic things! I don’t know whether it is good or garbage, or whether anyone but me, even understands what I’m trying to say. Perhaps you could tell me? I wrote Nicole a nice letter telling her I’m thinking of her, and hope she is okay, but I didn’t hear back-that’s kind of selfish of her. Hopefully she knows there are people that care about her, and are concerned for her welfare, that aren’t out to take advantage of her. I can’t blame her too much though, as I guess she has her own ‘raison d’être’, that is preoccupying all her time. How sad for her…
The Addict’s Cry
I’m your raison d’être
I’m the blackness in your soul
When you abandon all hope
I will assume total control
I’m a flaw in your moral character
Or aberrant thoughts in your brain
I can give you much pleasure
But prefer to bring you pain
I will never fail to appear
When you cry out my name
I’m a sadistic puppet master
I’ll make you dance and sing
I can make you laugh or cry
When I pull on your strings
I’m a black cloud overhead
On a clear sunny day
I will give you happiness
Then quickly take it away
I’m a monkey on your back
Or a thorn in your side
I’m the gateway to hell
That you’ll soon be inside
I come alive in your nightmares
I’ll haunt your days till the end
I’ll become your worst enemy
When you think I’m your friend
I’m the captain now steering this ship
I’ve taken control over your vessel
Set a course for self destruction
On this journey straight to hell
I’m the empty pill bottles
That lie beside your bed
I’m the smoking gun
Pointed at your head
I’m your lines of cocaine
Or a syringe of heroin
I’m the unlucky lottery ticket
That won’t let you win
I’m a losing hand in poker
Or an empty bottle of Gin
I’m your evil tormentor
That now lives within
I’m a shattered liquor bottle
Or your glowing meth pipe
I’m why you attempted suicide
And I will help you to get it right
I’ll give you glimpses of joy or hope
In moments of despair and doubt
I’m your sadistic slot machine
And I am never going to pay out
I’m your used needles
Or the bloodied knife
I’m the noose around your neck
That slowly choked out your life
I’ve been around since time began
I live in the psychic netherworld of man
I’m a sleeping demon
I’ll awaken and arise
Whenever I hear
An addict’s cries
I’m known as Addiction
I torment misguided fools
Who have wasted their lives
Waiting at the gates to oblivion
I’ll kindly greet you
And invite you all in
Shared Haliburton
Shared in Trenton Ontario. I hope she is found safe and sound!❤️❤️
Hope she comes home or contacts someone soon…. shared
Thank you
Hoping Nicole is safe and contacts her family soon.
Thank you
Here’s a little poem I wrote, that is an ‘homage’ to Nichole’s old stomping ground -90 Carden Street, in Guelph, the place she chooses to ‘run away’ to. It’s called a ’cautionary tale’, for a reason; hopefully other young-or in this case, not so young- people, who want to run away, throw away their lives, and end up here, in this hell hole, can take heed! It’s not specifically about Nichole, just ‘her kind’. She did however, inspire the one line ‘Trading their bodies for drugs…’ which came from something she once said to me. So, this is dedicated to all the gals-both alive, and dead, (R.I.P.)- of Carden street, God bless, ‘em! (There is a generous amount of sarcasm, dripping from the words of that above, description!)
90 Carden Street (a cautionary tale)
If you’re homeless, drug addicted, or a criminal
I know a place that you’ll soon go
90 Carden Street, in Guelph, Ontario
You’ll meet some people that I know
So when you end up in the downtown and you have a deadly vice
Before you cross through these doors you really should think twice
90 Carden Street, is the place where they all go
You’ll soon find, that it’s very dark inside
Ghostly shadows, dance upon the walls
From the meth pipe’s crimson glow
There’s some young girls who were looking for their fix
Now they’re sleeping in hallways, shooting up and turning tricks
A needle in the arm, or a gun to the head
It really makes no difference as they all soon end up dead
90 Carden Street, will soon become your prison cell
Or an anchor around your neck, that drags you down to hell
You give away your needles saying this time that you’re through
But this Meth addiction has got it hooks too deep into you
The girls in the doorways will quickly make friends
Trading their bodies for drugs is just a means to an end
If you want their company they’ll rarely say no
You don’t need to have money, just crystal meth or blow
90 Carden Street is where they go to spend their time
Mental illness, drugs, and sex, it’s the center of all crime
Behind closed doors, a muffled scream or stifled cry
Another rape, broken dream and blackened eye
No reason to live or will to fight
Perhaps in the next life you’ll all get things right
Family, friends and morals long cast away
Another hit on the meth pipe makes it all seem okay
You still look sweet innocent and cute
But behind those stony eyes, you cannot hide
A life of sadness and all the crystal that you shoot
The tracks down your arms trace a lifetime of pain
There’s no self-control when the needle calls out your name
90 Carden is a place you wish you didn’t know
Sitting in a darkened room,
With another blackened spoon
By the meth pipe’s dying glow
No chocolates for Valentine’s, just another beating or two
You think those black eyes that he gives you means ‘I love you’
Demons from the shadows of your mind
Come alive at night, they haunt you and won’t let you go
No friendly monsters in this dream, just another frightened scream
As this nightmare feeds off your weakness, and continues to grow
At 90 Carden Street, the madness never ends
You’ve been up for days and are tweaking again
They’ll steal your shoes while you sleep, or cell phone, once again
The people who do this you thought were your friends
You tell people you don’t do drugs, as you look them in the eye
You’ve said this so much you start to believe your own lies
Saying that you’re clean and sober, is your inside joke
Because you’ll soon be in your room, snorting lines of coke
90 Carden becomes a noose around your throat
Slowly it tightens until you finally choke
You want to get out, but you don’t know what to do
Jail, death, or insanity are the only options left for you
90 Carden Street, is the place where they all go
The needle is loaded with Fentanyl,
And the meth pipe ceases to glow
Once inside Carden, you’ll soon learn the reason why
When the door slams shut, it’s too late to escape
It’s the place where they all go to die.
It would seem that now, would be a good time to have a missing person page up for Nicole, as she seems to have vanished off the face of the earth, and if there are people who know where she is, they aren’t talking. However, this is the second in my ‘trilogy’ of poems dedicated to the girls of Carden street. Nicole used to stay with the girl this poem was inspired by. It is a story of a girl that starts using drugs at a young age and develops mental health issues as a result of this. The second half of the poem is when she goes off into the woods to use hallucinogenic drugs, and is written through the eyes of someone who is in a delusional psychosis, and is experiencing hallucinations and visions as a result of these drugs. Unfortunately, it is based more in reality than fiction, as it was gathered from things she has told me, or I know about her. It’s not about Nicole, but, if you squint your eyes and read between the lines you might see a bit of her in this. As a side note I gave a copy of this to the person who inspired it, and she yelled at me, saying I was making fun of her. She more recently, told me I was a good writer, and that she shows this to her criminal, mentally ill, drug addicted buddies, who all really like it. It seems my writing is a hit with the meth addicts, so who am I to deny the world of these gems?
(On a more serious note I heard that there was another death at Carden last night, which would be the fourth in the last month that I am aware of. Most Fentanyl overdoses. Nicole knew the person who died, he was homeless and staying in the apartment next to the girl that inspired this poem. The police are investigating as I write this. Wherever Nicole is, it has got to be better than here… I hope!)
Gwenivere (A King with a Broken Crown)
Gwen started doing drugs at a very young age
She now suffers from manic depression, and fits of rage
She was a sweet little girl that loved finger painting, and coloring books, too
She didn’t mind building model airplanes, but really loved sniffing the glue
By the age of ten, she would hook up with friends, and hang out in the street
They’d all cut class, huff some gas, and smoke a lot of weed
By the age twenty-one, she had done every drug under the sun:
Mushrooms, peyote, acid, coke, hash, and mescaline
It didn’t take long until she knew something was wrong, as insanity set in
Too many years of smoking crack, and snorting cocaine
Had permanently rewired the circuits of her brain
Her doctors couldn’t make a conclusive diagnosis
She was either suffering from inherent mental illness
Or from a permanent crystal meth induced psychosis
The only things they concurred upon, was that years of shooting up meth
Had given her paranoia, delusions of grandeur, and a Messiah complex
She had been told early on, that she was a very special little girl
Extra vertebrae formed a double spine, and made her born with a tail
An Amniotic sac wrapped around her face, gave her a Caulbearer’s veil
Mystical powers were bestowed upon her,
By this birthright, and the many drugs she was taking
They increased her delusional beliefs, and magical thinking
She knew that she had been born a priest,
And one day would rule as a ‘King’
She had an autistic aversion to people from a young age,
But once this mental illness began;
She would head out, into the wilderness, in solitude,
As the animals, and drugs, became her only friends
She packs some food, and ‘psychedelic aids’,
And leaves city streets, and humanity behind
She wants to commune with nature, escape reality,
And expand her delusional mind
A slice of pizza to go, with an order of ‘shrooms on the side
She heads into the woods, where the forest comes alive
The druids dance around the fire, as the black crow sings
The dragon awakens, and flutters his wings
The geese fly backwards, and speak to her, in this surreal world
Thirty hits of acid, help make this psychedelic dreamscape unfurl
She smiles and waves to the laughing donkeys in the trees
The cyclops winks his eye, and she turns and flees
She hopes he’ll smile this time, and kindly greet her
But he inevitably will always kill and eat her
In this recurring dream, she wants to make friends
But awake or asleep, her nightmare never ends
In the pathway, a dog with Medusa’s head, appears
It growls at her, then quickly melts, and disappears
With the aid of peyote, she continues on this journey
To search for the mystical Oracle, who is all knowing
To seek the answers, to life’s questions that she has found
She’s stopped on this pathway, is asked to turn away
And told she is too evil, to enter upon this sacred ground
In these hallucinogenic dreams
Things aren’t really what they seem
As she weaves a world of things she fears
Another trip gone badly, once again,
As she cries a river, of blood red tears
She’ll astrally project to lands far away
Afghanistan by night, or Peru by day
Columbian snow squalls make her shiver and freeze
They tickle her nose, and will make her sneeze
The crack pipe helps keep her cozy and warm
Throughout this cocaine fueled South American storm
Only Mexican black tar, or China white
Can help her sleep peacefully through the night
She’s now ‘King Gwenivere’, or so she’s been told
She rides on her chariot, forged from Acapulco gold
In these opium fueled dreams, her astral body flies
Soaring through pitch black night, or twilight skies
Silver coke spoon, as her scepter, held high in hand
With a hypodermic needle, she wields as her sword
She’s the reigning monarch, in this drug induced, delusionary world
This is the third poem of my ‘trilogy’ of poems inspired by the girls of Carden street. It is my birthday today, and two of the girls from Carden have court cases today. Nicole was friends with both of them. The one that inspired this poem might be one of the meanest people I’ve ever known. She is up for theft, once again. I’m not sure if I will attend the court case, as I have spent too many days doing this in the past, but it would be a nice birthday present for me, to know that she would go to jail. She is a mentally and emotionally damaged, drug addicted girl, that I spent too long trying to help out. How did she repay my kindness? She came to my house twice and stole from me! Nicole used to stay in her apartment on occasion. Nic told me that once, when she showed up at her door, she came at her with a knife and punched her in the nose- ouch! With ‘friends’ like that, you don’t need enemies, eh? This girl used to tell me she thought that she was Satan, or the Devil and that she was ‘evil’. I used to try to disabuse her of these notions, but eventually came around to her way of thinking! She told me she was born with a ‘tail’, and that she had ‘666’ tattooed on her stomach. She is a compulsive liar, thief, and drug addict. I regularly write to her mother, who she is estranged from. She tells me she was a very sweet girl, until drugs took over her life many years ago, and irrevocably changed her. So, this is the basis for this poem. I’m not sure if anyone is reading this nonsense I’m posting, or even why I’m doing this, but as a disclaimer, I will say there is some disturbing and gory imagery in this, so read on at your own risk. All of these girls seem to have a common thread, and similar life stories. There is drug abuse, mental health issues, loss of children, estrangement from families, homelessness, court cases, jail sentences, crime, etc… so there is a little of Nicole in here, especially one part that I wrote that was inspired by her. I hope if she is reading any of this, she doesn’t take offence. I would have liked to have helped her out. I hope she is doing well, but can’t imagine this could be the case, as I know what she is up against, and facing in life.
So here is the story inspired by one of the most, unconscionable, evil, girls I have ever met. Read on if you dare…
Methistopheles (The tale of a girl named Jen O’Syde)
A child was born to an otherworldly pair
This young girl, so malicious, and evil,
Was preordained, as Satan’s rightful heir
The Medusa, her mother, her father, the Incubus
It soon became apparent she was not one of us
A pact with the Devil was made, before birth
This child would become the dark lord of this earth
Born with a tail, this should have been a ‘devilish’ warning sign
Doctor’s dismissed it, as just having extra vertebrae in her spine
Something puzzled them though, as there was no medical proof
Why she had no toenails, and her feet resembled cloven hooves
666 was branded upon her belly as an infant
To proudly announce to all, her Satanic intent
Bottle fed Laudanum, instead of formula
From a very young age
This addictive tincture of opium,
Would make her malevolence rage
People didn’t know what to make of this girl
Whose powers of evil, would slowly unfurl
They couldn’t figure out why this child took such delight
In seeing others have pain and suffering in their lives
She had no innate ability to empathize,
She’d laugh at funerals while others cried
She’d sadistically pull the wings off flies,
Or poke babies with sharp sticks in the eye’s
She’d giggle with delight when people suffered or died
She would trip old ladies just to get her kicks
Then maniacally laugh, when they broke their hips
As she grew older, good or evil, she couldn’t decide
This wicked girl, unfortunately named Jen O’Syde
She would strangle cats, or cut off puppy’s tails
She found joy in hearing them moan and wail
Jen used drugs when she felt the urge
To feel the evil powers within her surge
She would then go down to the river
With rat poison, to feed to the birds
She thought it amusing to watch their dead bodies float
She might break a duck’s neck, or slit a goose’s throat
Jen seemed to have no conscience, she’d easily steal, or lie
She had an inherent compulsion to do so, but didn’t know why
She would say that she is a good girl, as she looked you in the eye
How she loved all the sweet, innocent, children of the world
Then fantasize how they could all be tortured, and horribly die
Of all the children, it was babies Jen particularly despised
She’d dream of disembowelling them, or cutting out their eyes
Or perhaps use their entrails to fashion into neck ties
This incredibly wicked, sadistic, girl, Jen O’Syde
She would steal people’s cars
And take them out for a joy ride
She’d kindly return them, demolished,
Turned upside down, or on their side
Jen didn’t need to eat food, her only sustenance illicit drugs
Pot, hash, opiates, and cocaine, were now not enough
She soon found that she had a thirst for human blood
They knew something about her was not right
She would hang upside down to sleep at night
People suspected she was up to no good
As children went missing in the neighborhood
Upon their lifeless bodies she did feed
This diabolically sadistic, demon seed
In her wicked sorority, Jen hated all authority
And It was policeman, she particularly despised
Just for fun, she went up to one, grabbed his gun
And then kindly shot him, between the eyes
Her sadistic violence was becoming more intense
This malevolent girl, who now had no conscience
Jen knew the drugs she was using
Wouldn’t be enough on their own
If she would ever have the power
To unseat Lucifer from his throne
She heard of a drug called crystal meth
How for most people who used it,
Would lead to a certain death
This drug might just suit her well
And give her enough evil power
To reign over the kingdom of hell
The first time Jen shot a gram into her veins
Waves of ecstasy coursed through her brain
Then her body and mind began to change
She let out a yell that shot to the skies
As her body grew to ten times it’s size
And the fires of hell burned in her eyes
Her sadistic malevolence grew a thousand fold
As shockwaves of evil were felt across the world
From Russia to Australia, Sweden to Japan
No one was safe as her reign of terror began
Now known as Methistopheles, no longer Jen O’Syde
A vortex to a nether world, opened up a mile wide
And the hounds of hell came out and sat by her side
Her sadistic torture would soon be spread worldwide
They hadn’t seen a tyrant like this since time began
She was Hitler and Stalin, to the power of ten
Body parts now littered the ground like human debris
And rivers of blood ran through the streets,
Which she would dip her chalice in, to have a drink
Then sit back and smile, as she was now well pleased
Babies limbs and heads hung like Christmas ornaments
From the swaying branches of the trees
Death camps were soon set up across the land
And the experimental torture of children began
To see how much Crystal Meth their bodies could stand
And see if she could build a superhuman race of man
Parents sobbed as their children died
She’d drink the blood and cast them aside
As stacks of dead infants grew a mile high
She might skin their bodies,
Then sit back and gloat
And have the grieving parents
Fashion them into her new coat
People would drop to their knees and shake with fear
Whenever this evil monster, Methistopheles was near
Over one hundred million lives would be lost
In this modern day, malevolent, Hell-o-caust
–
Meth labs could barely keep up with the production
She had to constantly increase her meth consumption
Shooting up a hundred grams a day was not enough
Her energy and evil powers, were starting to wear off
The drug that gave her, her power would soon take it away
As her body started to rapidly age, wither, and decay
First her teeth fell out, then open sores covered her skin
Which rats and maggots would feast upon, and live within
People danced and cheered the day this evil tyrant died
A collective sigh was heaved by people worldwide
There was an end to this malevolent, mass, Jen-o-cide
It was now their turn to laugh, instead of cry
As her body started decay
A vortex to hell opened
And whisked her away
No need for a funeral pyre
As she would forever burn
In an infernal lake of fire
Her soul would be tortured for an eternity
While Satan ignored her cries, and pleas,
Begging for mercy, on bended knees
He sat back on his throne, and smiled
As he was now well pleased
(And the moral to this parable, in case you haven’t guessed,
Is, all you sweet, innocent, children of the world,
Please don’t do drugs, especially Crystal Meth!)
The end.
Shared with my family in Stratford. Praying Nicole is quickly found safe.
❤
Thank you