Beneath this Tree


I’ll tell the tale of my demise.

Pass it on so no one else dies.

A witch they said I be.

Put to death and buried beneath this tree.

Falsely accused was I.

No confession, sentenced to die.

Confess and live, I could not make a sound.

If a witch I be, would I have ended up in the ground?

Tyrants our judges and jury.

Murdered us all in such a hurry.

Justice was blind and

everyone out of their mind.

Innocent we all be.

No matter, they didn’t want to see.

Guess it matters not.

In the ground we rot.

Tell the world to beware.

Forked tongues bring despair.

Oh can’t you see?

The proof is buried beneath this tree.

-LA Vent August 2019

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