The Devil's Salem

What may become of your stories,
Salem, Mass.; a Christian village?
Days of prayer no longer important,
But rather the villagers’ sanity.

The court prepares hangings daily
To those accused of wrongs.
Never did they expect to hang
Women and children to witchcraft!

One by one the suspects confess or pretend
Despite their hate, they dare not try
To release the names of those at fault.

Like a wrecking ball, they slowly fall
Towards the light of God and truth
Some continue to refuse to change
While others face the pain.

The innocent have been slaughtered,
The silent are pushed by stone,
The black hearts formed by the Devil,
Are the scared wearing a mask.

We ask you, little town of Salem
What becomes of the stories you hold?
Do the wicked fall and die?
Or shall they roam the village forever?