Her body was bruised with expectation,
her knees scraped by grit and guilt
from being dragged through dirt.
Punishment,
for an imagined transgression.
She was christened in a witch hunt
but untied the rope from her own neck
and wrote a song of retribution
that took them from their beds,
and drowned them in that same dirt.
She wasn't a witch,
until they made her one.




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