The WitchA Poem by The Moaning PoetThe death of a "Witch"I stand upon the old, damp steps, I ponder the life other people have led. Will they be brought here just like me? And made a public mockery? The time has come, as it does for us all. I hear nothing but chants and applause, This is the reality of a backwards age! I walk up the flimsy wooden staircase, There is no escape, there is no justice here. The noose is placed around my neck and the world around me
roars; “Hang the witch!” © 2018 The Moaning PoetFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorThe Moaning PoetWolverhampton, West Midlands, United KingdomAboutHello my name is Nicola, I am 20 from England. My work is vague and I will not spend time explaining the meaning behind a piece. Just use your imagination, this is a literature forum after all. more..Writing
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