The Guillotine

Like burnt toast
Blackened and scraped
I can still be used
Though my soul has been raped

I am terminally ill
And I’m begging to die
I’m in debt to my past
I beg you hear me my cries

I’ve been sold to the flame
Upon the hatred and blame
It’s the Sirens last chorus
To my guillotine remorse

When the guilt passed the test
In the waking hours of rest
There is mass execution
Of my best contribution

I’m seen only as evil
My heaven is dead
My home is a shambles
So like this letter you have read

Lost lives
Through childish lies
These are demons that rise
Under cemetery shines

My head is on trial
The town barrows down
They sharpen the blade
And interrogate my shame

My charges in question
Only seconds too late
As that free falling silver
Reached my throat; my escape

Continues...