The noose tightens as the executioner reads out the list
of charges, a long list, a list I hear with mingled apathy and
disgust. These people know nothing, feel nothing, fear
everything, and yet they hang me today, for crimes I didn’t
commit, for worshipping gods they don’t believe in.
Pity them, the fools, for not seeing the enemy in front
of them, crowned with jewels more precious than any
human soul, but don’t pity me, the witch, with your infidel
eyes, eyes that judge, that scorn, that fear. Yes, fear, because
fear is the root of your anger, your outrage. You fear
what you do not understand, and you do not understand
this, this love, respect, worship for a philosophy other than
And, for that, I must be punished.
So, punish me, I’ll take it, as the floor boards drop and
my neck snaps back and I hang there for what seems like
hours, but only lasts minutes, really, as the faces in front
of me blur. Your faces, accusing, hating, fearful. Always
fearful. Because we are human, and humans always fear
what they do not understand.
Pity them, because they will remain coated in ignorance
unless they learn otherwise. And, with eternal cycle of
fear-fueled hate, I waste my last thought wondering whether
that day will ever come.