Smoke and Cake

There was a whisper heard that night which startled every villager to their core,
Yet in the morning almost all forgot that it had ever been before,
Only one soul recalled the fateful whisper and its message of warning,
The lad knew it was truth to which his heart was burning,
He toiled to convince the village of its impending doom,
Attempting every method that he thought could bloom,
And on a fine Sunday morning, they burnt him at the stake,
Sprinkling his ashes on their breakfast of smoke and cake.

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