The midnight arrived at my door like a treacherous whisper.
I had been accused, but my judgement would always stay sealed.
Disdainful warnings shot through the wood and the crystals,
And I knew they had sworn to never offer me a deal.
They held pulsating purple lighters in their twitching hands,
Swaying gently as their gilded rage built in vacant chests.
They wanted to slay me again to finally cleanse these holy lands,
And bleed me dry until their dusty town became blessed.
I hated most faces in the roaring crowd, but I knew hers,
With its stainless steel look of pure pride and undying conviction.
With each cursed step she took, she built me a newer hearse.
“Run, witch, run,” she shrieked, fulfilling the silent prediction.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 