hatchet edge behind her painted eyes. This Juggalette, while enjoying all of the six joker cards, has sworn herself to Thy Wraith, in name, album, life, and interpretation. There is only one, who is the original, from the Chicago area she has risen. Every day she celebrates the gifts of family, god, and pride that her Juggalo brethren has given her. There will be imitators, but in the end they know they are the lie, in the end survives the one, and the only Wraith Juggalette.
Wraith Juggalette Short excerpt from her poem “How You Make The Wickid Shit”;
‘…I am never understood,
But my fam just doesn’t care.
They aren’t understood either,
Thats just one more thing we share.
The hatchetman is my father,
The jokers cards my peers.
The Wraith giving me name,
Nothing left to fear…’
Found upon MySpace. There is only one.
Imitations are possible, so be wary.
When I die,
Show no pity,
Send my soul to Juggalo city.
Dig my grave six feet deep,
Tell my momma not to weep.
Then put two matches by my feet,
Put two hatchets on my chest,
And tell my homies I did my best.