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

your own.

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.


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