Thursday, February 7, 2013



I stand upon this pedestal staring
down into the faces of my tormentors,
the ones who have wronged me to no end.

They gather, circling around me,
making sure to keep their distance
so as not to entice the wickedness that dwells within.

Torches alighted with the fires of hell
raised in honor of this burning, this sacrifice,
for which I am the lamb slain.

They know not of what I truly am,
for I am nothing but a mere woman in her prime,
a woman misjudged for being different or sane.

"Burn the witch!" my neighbors yell
as the wick is lit with the fire they possess,
smoke rising on the wings of the northern winds.

The smell of my flesh being devoured
by the flames that lick at my feet overpowers
everything in my mind's eye.

The damned souls watch in merriment
as the sparks ignite all that was left of me,
all that I had with me in life.

Curse you all!

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