The World is Salem
By: Quinn Michaels 

 

In the year of our Lord, sixteen ninety-two,

Salem's shadows birthed a horror anew,

With whispers and secrets, they lit the pyres,

Turning justice to ash, feeding their fires.

 

Accusations flew like arrows in the dark,

Sisters became suspects with each damning remark.

Their sin? Being different, too loud, too free,

In a world where their silence was a decree.

 

The village, a cauldron of fear and despair,

Where every gaze turned into a snare.

An innocent glance, a word out of place,

Could mark you for judgment, a death to embrace.

 

Flash forward centuries, change the stage,

But the actors, they play from the same old page.

Now it's not witches, but feminists they chase,

Labeling, shaming, in a digital space.

 

"She’s too ambitious," "too angry," they claim,

Trying to snuff out her fire, extinguish her flame.

She speaks up for justice, for equal pay,

Yet they call her a man-hater, dismiss what she says.

 

Her voice is a threat in a world so tight,

Where conformity reigns and dissent's not polite.

They circle like vultures, waiting to pounce,

On anyone daring to rock the old bouncer's ounce.

 

They fear her power, her voice, her fight,

So they box her in shadows, away from the light.

They post and they tweet, they comment and scorn,

In their comfort of screens, her strength they try to mourn.

 

No gallows or flames, but the cruelty remains,

In whispers, in comments, in online refrains.

Silencing her passion, her hope, and her dreams,

They try to erase her, to shatter her schemes.

 

But listen, oh listen, to her battle cry,

It echoes through history, it will not die.

For every witch burned, every feminist scorned,

A thousand rise up, unbowed and reborn.

 

Their voices blend in a symphony of rage,

Against the injustice of this modern-day cage.

They fight for the right to speak, to be seen,

For the freedom to live, to exist, to dream.

 

We won’t be silenced, not then, not now,

With resilience and fury, we’ll take our vow.

To fight for the sisters, the silenced, the shamed,

Until every voice is heard, every woman reclaimed.

 

From Salem’s dark past to our present-day strife,

We carry the torch, we bring forth the light.

For every witch, every feminist beset,

We stand unafraid, we won’t forget.

 

We rise with their courage, we march with their might,

Through centuries of darkness, we blaze through the night.

The echoes of the pyre guide our way,

In the fight for tomorrow, and the dawn of a new day.