the stake

Here we stand,
tied to the stake.
Flames licking at our limbs.
This moment where we meet our fate.

Persecuted for our beliefs.
The practice of this ancient craft.
It’s known here as the devil’s workings.
To watch us burn they gather in mass.

Fear bred by ignorance,
I slowly accept what has to be.
For they have branded upon my skin,
The markings of the beast.

My sins they must be paid in flesh,
With heat my skin begins to itch.
I’m not the first and not the last
That has to die for being a witch.