SB LACROIX

The truth had long been concealed,
Whispered a voice beyond the veil;
In a grave manner she revealed,
What had caused her heart to fail.

She whispered of her sorrow,
She’d been forced to confess a lie;
Time no longer could she borrow,
She had been condemned to die.

Barefoot to the gallows she went,
The noose around her neck tight;
Soon her life would be spent
And her soul would take flight.

The floor gave way with a bang,
The weight of her body fell;
The witch, they said, must hang
And burn forever in hell.

The mob had been victorious, 
She hanged for what they feared;
Her demise to them was glorious,
Each soul in attendance cheered.

Her body was buried deep,
Left to a worm-riddled decay;
Peacefully the town would sleep,
For a witch was killed that day.

The sun rose to a great plague,
Each person in town fell ill;
The cure appeared quite vague,
Few knew the healing skill.

For the healer they would wait,
One had passed the night before;
The townsfolk sealed their fate,
For the witch could heal no more.

The future contagious and bleak,
Death certain for each single one;
Beyond the veil they would seek
Forgiveness for what they had done.

Read and recorded by Viktor Aurelius ~ Music by Kevin MacLeod.

From my book: A Dark Quill