Witch

She was too young they said. 

That was the excuse they used,

to charge the girl with flame red hair to death.

She cried bright blue tears like the sky.

Begged like the child she was. 

Innocent 

Innocent

Innocent

No one cared to listen to her pleas.

Guilty

Guilty 

Guilty

They called as they dragged her through the streets.

In one hand they gripped a Bible,

and in the other a stone. 

And though the blood dripping out of her was red

and no devil spawn came to save her

her fate had been sealed. 

They bound her beautiful thin frame to the pyre in the middle of town.

She searched their faces for an ounce of regret,

a shred of humanity,

but she could find none. 

Fear had driven them mad.

The fire would purge her of sin they shouted. 

But she had not sinned,

the fire would only purge her flesh and bones of life. 

She begged one last time as smoke filled her nose. 

Please

but no one heard. 

As red-yellow flames engulfed her. 

Her screams split the sky sending birds to the air. 

The sun hid away in shame. 

The people watched until her screams died away. 

A pile of smoldering ashes was all that was left of the girl with flame red hair.