© Amber Kalkes 2014
{The Burning Of A Witch}
The rope around my wrists chafes and itches,
As the crowd below yells 'burn them, burn the witches'.
Wood lays at my feet and is proped behind my back,
I have been convicted despite the evidence my accusers do lack.
The man in black, death himself, strides towards me with a stoic face,
As I stand before the essembly dressed in the purest white lace.
I am a victim today but after this day nevermore,
For I will haunt them till thier judgement day, to this I will have swore.
The fire rises and the smoke fills the sky,
Some cheer at the sight and some even dare cry.
Revenge will be sweet, is my last thought before the agony hits my bones,
For I will be thier judge when the day comes for the people of Salem to atone.
YOU ARE READING
Wishing On A Supernova
PoetryMy second collection of my very own poetry :} {Completed}
