Witch Hunter

Frostbite winds carve through the pines Another village cursed by crooked signs The heretic's mark on chapel doors Her shadow stains these rotten floors I track the lies on broken faith With cold iron and holy hate No psalm can save what she defiles The witch dies screaming... ...Tonight Ash in my lungs... from the lies she breathes, Murky fog on the eve... No absolution... for the cursed or me Her noose is waiting... around the tree. Her skin’s like parchment stretched on bones, Crackling with every breath she groans… Eyes like pits instilling dread Mouth unstitched… words like maggots in my head I level my crossbow… sweat on steel Her laugh’s a cadaver starting to congeal… Veins throb black beneath transparent skin Spiders hatching out where her grin begins… She twists… joints pop like rotten branches snapped Hair alive with crawling things that gasped The fear on my soul… prayers turn to rot “Hunter,” she hisses… “you’re already dead.” These scars are my rosary Each witch I’ve bled Her horrors just kindling for holy rage instead! The village screams in every chug of steel “Suffer not the witch to live!” My holy zeal! I charge through cobwebs of her rotten spells Salt and silver Hell’s own scent it smells! “Your fear feeds her!” Her death draws nigh Crossbow cocks A saints dry sigh… Bolt released! It shatters her ribs like glass Black ichor sprays on frostbitten grass… She shrieks... Vines burst from her throat to strike I draw my blade… “Burn, face judgement tonight!” Her veins rupture into thorns I dodge the spine Holy water drips from dagger’s shine… Cut deep! Her flesh screams like harrowed sheep “Ashes! Ashes!” The vows I keep Her flesh peels back in sacred flame Screams become hymns... that speak my cursed name. I sheathe the blade still wet with blight No angels sing... no holy light Just the frostbite wind on bloodstained snow “Rest?” The oldest lie I know