False Interactions Poem by Atticus Mortimer

Smoke fills a dismal sky,
The wood cracks and pops against my spine,
An acrid smell,
Leaps to my nose,
A smell so pungent,
So filled with foul humors,
That the pain is almost forgotten,
I feel pain,
So,
So much pain,
It tears through my body,
Threatening to overwhelm me,
Casting me to unconcious void,
But no such relief comes,
And I am confined to the indescribable,
Resigned to die,
Before my friends,
Josiah,
Elizabeth,
The twins Mary and Margrethe,
Before my family,
Papa,
Mama,
And baby Johnathan,
A babe too young,
To even remember me after I am gone,
Before the very people,
By whom I was raised,
Nurtured,
Beloved,
Made family by,
But I do not scream,
I do not whimper,
I have bitten through my tongue
As to render myself incapable.
I will not give them the satisfaction,
I wonder,
For a moment,
Will the fire claim me?
Or will I drown in my own blood?
I hope when I get to heaven,
I can spit in God's wretched face,
I hope I get the chance for,
That redemption at least,
I go now,
Anger,
Betrayal,
And,
Incalculable sadness,
All while the village chants,
Burn the witch.