An Inquisition

And how many have died at a stake
Pulled at the skin,
Weighed down to bone?

Ask me - ask me - ask me -
Interrogate me dry,
I’ll tell you what you want to hear,
I’ll soothe all your demands,

“Well, will she float when we sink her -
And does she know
We can wade
Through lies?”
- of course, sir, I’ll sure as hell
Let let myself die.

Don’t you know I’ve breathed through water
And rotted through til to hell?
I’ve torn out my skin til’ flesh + bone bled,
Til’ I’ve been healthy and well.

“We know what you’re saying, and we’d
Really like to let you go,
But with eyes and a smirk like that,
We’d rather watch you die -
Or float.”
- I don’t fight anymore,
I just let you grin,
I’ll leave you gratified,
You think all I’m good for is sin.

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

A dark and foreboding piece here with witches on ducking stools pleading for their lives as inquisitors stand stoic and to purpose while all around sink rather than float.