Greatness strides down through her hair
Eager hearts go chasing after
Dark minds keep solemn watch
As a rope drapes from the rafters.
Blue flesh and purple lips
Listless eyes and cold stiff toes
A man of cloth recites in earnest
A selfish prayer of stunted prose.
This ****** of crows that’s gathered here
Stands by in wait to see it’s done
They gloat in glee and flaunt their feathers
In this demise - the day is won.
By tomorrow another will come
Found by many with accusatory tongue
Without a witness to their name
The deal is struck, the rope re-strung.
I wrote this a few years back inspired by a Salem witch costume I saw at the time. May come off somewhat derivative and I apologize if it does. I mainly just write for fun.
