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"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live"

Her frightened shreiks pierce the dawn
As they drag her toward her perdition.
Her mother's whispers comfort not,
She feels only the skeletal fingers of Death
As they creep ever closer.
Knowing not the saviour of her immortal soul
As they tie her to the stake,
His damp cloak wrapped about her mind.
Her prayer has been said over many times
But she repeats it sill
Even realising that Nature's hands are tied.
A collective glare surrounds her fate,
Come to see the reprobate's closing scene
Before returning home for tea.
Her wrists forced back and bound
She struggles still,
Heart beating furiously as if to prove it's worth.
Mouth dry and cheeks wet, she pleads,
But the verdict was unanimous
And the fires have now been lit.
The crowd cheers as the inferno surges upwards,
Leaping upon her fragile form
White fingers of justice tearing at her skin,
Searing her flesh.
The smoke billows outward upon the wind,
Carrying the choking screams of inexorable pain
From the charred and blackened corpse,
Still writhing at the centre of the dying blaze.
Once a child,
Now a spectacle for the masses
Amidst the torrid fires of Hell.