The moon shines through the clouds
see the black bird on a tree
his voice is loud, and clear
I think he is laughing at me

I am writing a last letter
while I wait for my end
and I am still wondering
how did I come into this land

they even can say I'm a witch
I never even touched this stuff
they always ask me to confess
now I see i'm not so tough

I'm afraid of the torture
so I sit in agony
dont know what I should do
I would confess to get free

You will hang on the big black tree
said the hangman right to me
at the crossing of the two dark ways
so you better enjoy your last days
_________________________________
by Dickinson