I am a witch.
I run through the forest, wild, with flowers blooming where I step. I pick bright red berries off of poison bushes and speak in whispers with lips stained black.
I am a woman.
I am a witch.
I smile as I see the bonfire, and know that I will be the first to burn. I laugh as they drag me out of my house and bind me to a pole. And as the flames lick the fabric of my dress, I curse them.
I am a witch.
So I will die as one.










