they burned them, and hung them

and pressed them to death,

to damped the flame

of magic.

but with every blood drawn, the flame grew.

hidden between books and in letters,

passed down from mother to daughter and son.

hundreds of years later,

we are showing the flame again

but this time they won't kill us.

this time they will come

with their pitchforks and hate sharp blades

and we will return the favor

with blood soaked matches

and burn them in the flames

that they carelessly tried to rid us of

- bit more then bitchcraft