I stand before you accused by some fool. You call me a witch, but I say you are foolish to agree. I but a simple girl I mean harm to no one. You demand I confess to my sins of witchcraft I'm firm when I look you the eye and tell you, “ I cannot”. I go three days and three nights with only water and some stale bread in the damp dark of the jail. I almost fear my hunger has made me mad when I see your face appear at my cell. Though am weak, I rise to greet your scornful face. Again, you demand I confess. You wish to make an example of me. Yet again I look you in the eye and reply; “ I cannot." You storm out in anger raving about how I shall hang, but I will not be tried for something I did not do. I will not ruin my name for the games of the fool. I stand at the gallows and you demand one last time my confession A single tear rolls down my face as I look to the crowd gathered to see my end. Standing tall, I whisper “I cannot.” s.s.