In twilight’s hush, where shadows play,
A young girl weeps, her heart away,
A prophet’s cry, a damning claim,
“Witch!” echoes through the church’s frame.
From village depths, where hunger’s sting,
She fled to city, seeking everything,
A maid’s life, hard, yet hope did gleam,
But now, with label, her future’s extreme.
The cracked floor’s witness to her pain,
As fear and doubt like specters reign,
Prophets’ words, a family’s sway,
Scattering prophecies, night’s darkest day.
In this cold space, she lies alone,
A soul tormented, heart turned stone,
The city’s promise, now but a lie,
As witch’s stigma, her life does deny.
What next for her, with path unclear,
Will she find solace, or shed bitter tear?
The prophet’s curse, a family’s might,
Leaves her future, in endless night.
