Note: This is a poem about a witch, persecuted because of her villager's fears. They chase her, and catch her. Her lover, her whitelighter, is killed before her eyes. She places a curse on them before she dies, to join her beloved.

Witches, witches, witches
Run, witch, run
Torches raised, they hunt for you
Burn you in the sun

Branches snap
Footfalls sound
Hands that grasp
The wench is found

Dragged through mud by midnight hair
Golden eyes blink back tears
A dark figure, tied to yonder stake
Now, at last, your deepest fear

Lover, friend, whitelighter, caught
Triled to burn at dawn's first light
His love for you, death the price
Wounded by Darklighter's flight

Wooden pillars burst into flames
Forced to watch
While true love dies
Death throes, finally, subside

Now, at last,
Your time has come
The waiting, fear
Fleeing, done

Step upon the charcoaled wood
A being so loved
Where once there stood
Instead, a witch

They tied her to the flame licked post
Laughter filled the village square
At last, their foe
Caught and snared

Spells of hate leave her lips
Curses on these people thine
That their fate shall be as mine
Again, the wood, once more enflamed