I had written this poem in the style of Arthur Miller's The Crucible. It was quite an enjoyable playwrite. I normally don't do rhyme-scheme (free-verse man myself) but i'm pretty happy with this turnout. Please enjoy.
Through eyes plain black as coal, and the future actions of no remorse,
To rid this town of Satan's will, and rid themselves of discourse,
Confess yourself, grace from His word, and be free to walk the clouds,
They drop to their knees with no other hope and reluctantly cry aloud,
I am free I am free, I am saved, I am free and all I have to do,
Is point my finger in another direction and put them in the pot to stew,
It was Goody Her and Goody She, they were all signing the book,
These words they heard from these women caused the chains to be shook,
Grab the marshal, chain 'em all, and don't let single one go,
Put them on trial in the rings fire, and let each and everyone know,
We will hear your pleas, you alibis and cries, but none will do you good,
You're here in the eyes in the One who cried and died so you could stand where you once stood,
Cut the tears, and your ways so queer so you will not hang by the names of your neck,
Lest you be held in contempt of the crime and through fires of hell you shall trek,
Do I make myself clear my many dears, do you confess to such crafts,
I would never admit to one so dim, gullible, coarse, and daft,
I confess to nothing, you know no God because you fight for the wrong side,
He is here with me as He looks at you and asks why you judge his pride,
He is the judge, not you nor I, so please end this nonsense,
I am a busy woman, I must make the supper, before the nooses shall tense,
If you truly love someone, would you go the wrong way to make them happy?
