Why has my life come to this inevitable fate?
What have I done to face this consequence at hand?
I have done nothing wrong!
My body does not crave pleasure from the devil, I don't even role that way.
Do not call me a witch!
Please do not talk behind my back.
You do not even know me like that, and I don't even want you to know me like that. Calling me a witch may hurt my feelings, but at least I still have my dignity. Blaming me for your misfortunes may send me to the gallows, but I want you all to know the truth.
I am not a witch, but I wish I was so I could cast a spell on you.
But what I am is a strong, independent women who has hopes and dreams to fulfill, and you all are ignoramuses.

Tomorrow, I will wake up, just like any other morning. I will feel the morning breeze through my open window, just as I felt my heart when I opened it up for you.
You knocked on the door to my heart, and crawled deep inside, and there you'll stay.
Even as you walk across the platform to meet your executioner,
Even as you breathe your last breath and enter the eternal nothingness of death.
In my heart, you shall remain, forever and always.

They say that the executioner was in love with the witch.
They saw the way he looked her in the eyes and the passion in her stare as she stood there silently on the stool, swinging to and fro, waiting for her execution.
They say she looked happy, because her last interaction was with the one she loved.
They say as he tied the rope around her neck, a single tear flew from his eye.
The crowd watched it as it fell, and splashed onto her blouse.
They saw that after he removed the stool from beneath her feet, they heard her neck crack.
No, wait, that was the crack of a broken heart.
The sullen executioner closed his eyes in misery.
He turned around, and put on his religious mask.
And yelled, "That's one less witch we have to deal with!"
But inside, he died, because he had nothing left to live for.
But there she remained in his heart, forever and always.