We slept in our cabins, not allowed to tell time.

The air was so brittle, our mouths dried with each sigh.

But the sunshine was nice and the breeze kept us cool.

And sometimes we’d forget this was just fancy school.

We held hands in a circle like some kind of cult.

Little witches awaiting damnation results. 

They offered redemption by sharing our trauma.

We just didn’t care for their Hollywood drama.

Amidst all of the madness- we did find some fun.

The guard dog was sweet- incomparable to none.

The treehouse and board games let us reclaim our youth.

Not bad for forced religion- ain’t that gospel truth?