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Nolan Willett Nov 2020
Take it as a compliment
Branded heretical.
Bring on the pyre,
And set it afire;
When they resort to
You’ll know you have the right
rachel martin Nov 2020
The weight of the guilt I have
For the things I said about you before you died
Sit on my chest
Press me to death like a Salem witch.
Every time I drink I indulge in my tears
That I have no right to;
All I cared about when you were alive was vengeance for the way
You made me feel,
When I should’ve thanked you for opening my eyes
And I should’ve looked right through you
With open eyes-
And seen that you were dying inside.
I wrote that you were dead to me,
Not intending it quite literally
Not wanting for awhile
I manifested that for you-
I await my witch trial.
Might delete
fray narte Jun 2019
death by burning knows no era
and my demons have long
set me on fire.

i feel like a witch burning at the stake —
burning and screaming for too long now,
but give it time and maybe
even my nerves can learn to be numb,
even the lick of flames can grow cold;

and maybe even the ashes can feel like home.
Heather Ann Oct 2018
1; fear will not **** you, but it can eat you alive and make your insides rot.

2;you must allow yourself to thaw before you can melt--the cold was meant to allow you to feel your own heartbeat. don't ignore it

3; you are alive, even if just barely. make sure to lift your eyes to the sun to know that it still shines even amongst the dark.

4; breathe in with your nose and out through your mouth. you are a passageway for ancestral air and you should take that responsibility seriously.

5; your blood is not special, nor is it ordinary.

6; it is only by chance that you are here. a line of perfectly timed decisions birthed you--remember why you're here.

7; look at the mountains. they were here before you and will be long after you're gone. one day you will become the air that surrounds it.

8; you can lose your footing, but don't despair. sometimes you fall into a new path and it's like breathing in clarity you've never once known.

9; listen to what you're body tells you, it knows you better than you think.

10; when everything turns to dust remember you have the ability to start over. it cannot harm you to wipe the slate clean
Omni Winters Oct 2018
You're innocent like the people of Salem.
But you're Abigail Williams.
We can all be a Reverend Hale sometimes. It's human.
But you are the witch.

© 2018 Omni Winters
October 26, 2018
anon Sep 2017
we live in the salem of judgment
acting as though
these are the societal judgment trials
acting as though
we are perfect
and everyone else
is either subpar
or evil
by comparison

we look at people we don't like
or don't know
and act as though being propelled by
a mob

throw our judgment
like rocks

douse it in oil
and light it up
to surround those
we deem
inherently suspect

string it
at first as innocently
as christmas popcorn strings
growing into a licorice rope
and soon
it is a rope we unconsciously
throw around necks
at people
with lives
and loves
and families
we always forget they might have

because we're so
obsessed with ourselves
it's like
no one else
or even

only us
and our lives
and loves
and families

i'm not blameless
but whoever says they are
is not

just like the witch trials
our salem
tries to end
once it gets personal

it never seems to matter
who we hurt and judge
it's us

because that's all we care about
isn't it?


A velvet smooth muskrat
her peltry in woods abandon safe harbor
as though a fir tree can alight her gain

yet beneath her surface
that cast doubt in a loom
where her shape desire it
but a charlatan begun ahem

if Tom sheath his wrench
and tries to loosen her again
in Bensalem tonight.
Andrew Maitland Aug 2016
On Proctor’s ledge I made my bed
Following the ****** scores
Through grey fog, thick as cold death.
Screaming gallows want my head...
To dance across their blood stained floors.
This opaque sky is my one true friend  
Oh the exquisite view it does afford!
Peering down those rotten trap doors.

Puritan villagers spew hate
Lighting my ***** feet
As this frayed rope keeps me safe.
Smooth grey rocks hidden away...
By broken sticks and amber leaves.
I left them on the ground where they lay
Just to preserve this caliginous scene!
Eighteen others shall soon agree.
Tryst Apr 2016
In pressing times truth oft' lies so oppressed
And falsehoods rouse to speak in joyed debate
That burdens brought to bear upon the breast
Might anchor nought but will of one testate

What courage leant upon a graven guest
Not thrift of fear in bearing of his fate
But silent as all untruths so expressed,
Except to cry with cursed tongue, "More weight!"
Giles Corey was executed via "Pressing" during the Salem Witch Trials on September 19th 1692 at the age of 81.  He refused to enter any plea against the charges of witchcraft, as was his legal right.
Entering a plea meant he could be tried in court and if found guilty, all of his estate would be forfeit to the crown.
By not entering a plea his assets could be passed to his children.  To prevent people from using this legal loophole, the law allowed a person to be "Pressed".  This involved the person being stripped, having a large plank placed upon their chest, and then large rocks piled on top of the plank to slowly crush the chest, until a plea is entered or until death occurs.  Giles endured his torture for two days before succumbing, only ever crying out "More weight!" when asked for his plea.
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