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Winters fingers

Sweat on the ground

Moist all around

Shivering was the witch

Until the mob surround her switch 

 

The crimes untold

As the woman's wrath unfolds

While the flames ignite 

to the crowds’ delight

 

Her screams echo fuelling the mobs hate

While masking their fate as her soul surrounds them 

 

The forest of death has a witches’ breath

With eyes that see through a revelled wicked glee 

 

Pointed are the fingers protruding from the cold

Incriminating as they linger

A curse on all our souls

witchspellswitchcraftForestevilwinter

◄ Kicking cups

Dear Annie ►

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