Condemnation

Bury them in the the graveyard named for the blessed priest
Who on a breezy summer night in the midst of dusk
Was found dangling from the boughs of his very own apple tree
The old wives whisper about the cursed spirit
Wandering the grounds of his holy church, conducting sermons from a rotting altar
Shunned priest of the condemned, dooming descendants for years to come
Bury them in a nailed coffin, buried six feet under
For the children whimper in fright and screech for their mothers
At the curling fingers about wooden lids, the very heartbeat of life soured by the dead
Bury them where the world cannot gaze upon
Their bleeding scars and mauled bodies and dried tears still streaking down cheeks
Let them forget, ease their longing guilt with pity and hatred
Bury them where the atrocities shall fade.