The Public Execution
“I shall not need the head cloth; I want to see the world before I die”
My decomposing carcass will be prey to vultures; the ulcers
Begin to clandestinely erode the core that stored the lore
Burn body burn, begin the penultimate firework display
Lay the lay workers to rest as the bloody butcher behests
Me to lie on my knees with my head forward on the gap
They then strap my hands and people start to clap, clap
At the show of whom they believe is worthy of death
By decapitation they wish to steal the zeal of my last breath
“I shall lie down and laugh at the irony of what is to be”
The drought of woodworms was not to be, they chewed in extreme ecstasy
Me the man now the dunce, being tested and tasted by worms in abundance
The cold steel of the knights armour mocked as my head locked steadfastly
Locked in the lock that locks the fate now unlocked to show no penance
“Let me see my reaper”
I have one chance to look and so I look at the face displayed as an open book
The man operating the hook that will bring this crook to the reaper in the nook
I see with clarity and as I see I vision the demonist regime striking at my head
Eyes were closed but then they opened them, to see the look of a man who’s dead
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