The Waking Nightmare
I dreamt a dream,
So horrible and cruel,
That my screams echoed through the house,
The sight of the the men in dark cloaks,
Struck fear into my soul,
Though I did not know why,
Until I seen the woman,
Her body bruised and mangled,
Her deep green eyes filled with tears of agony and dispair,
Her hair, which had once been long and silky,
Now was rudely chopped and tangled,
One of the men in cloaks began to speak,
And as he spoke another man poked te woman with something sharp,
I heard her screams,
I saw her blood,
Then I saw the brutal man, tie the woman up,
I did not understand why,
It seemed so wrong,
The crowd in which was gathered,
Stared in a uneasy, fearful silence,
The only sound being that of which the men in cloaks made,
When they lite the fire beneath her feet,
I heard myself crying out, telling them to stop,
I felt someone grab my arms,
My screams echoed hers as the flames licked her flesh,
They tried to drag me away,
As I struggled, I watched her die,
Burnt alive,
The crowd disappeared,
Staring at me with knowing eyes,
I suddenly knew,
The next woman to be burned,
Was myself.
Copyright © Ruth Toole | Year Posted 2011
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