March 3, 2010
By Krystal Charles BRONZE, Eastview, Kentucky
Krystal Charles BRONZE, Eastview, Kentucky
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I hear them call, shout my name.
My feet burn, I hide my shame.
Lungs on fire, I can't see.
Branches whipping my face, brambles tugging at my jeans.
On and on I run, Hoping to escape the flames.
For the cross they bear, it will scar my name.
For We were dancing in the woods, the open flame singing horrid songs. For dancing was a crime, and I was to be the sacrifice.

The author's comments:
What inspired me to write this poem is that, in my English class, we were talking about Puritans and McCarthyism and the Witch hunt in Salem. i thought this would go well with the theme and i believed it would tell you, and hopefully, inspire people to see and feel what the people of Salem, and those in the time of the Red Scare, felt when they were wrongly accused of a crime.

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