A Poem For Friday

When Will It End?

Branches stab at me,

Fingers uncoiling, reaching out,

I push past them, panting,

When will it end?

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Voices fill the air,

Guttural, gathering momentum,

Someone sees me, I shiver,

When will it end?

---

Lights fill the forest,

Footsteps thunder, coming closer,

Shouts shoot through me, I scream,

When will it end?

---

Chanting commences,

Wild eyes are everywhere,

“We have the wicked witch!”

When will it end?

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Many hands claim me,

Pushing, forcing me forwards to my fate,

Sobs catch in my throat, I am no witch,

But at least it will end.

***