Death (part 2)

In which the Executioner and everyone else is surprised by an unexpected turn of events.

The Executioner strings up the next victims,

a women whose sick, a man whose stolen one to many loaves of bread,

but they are just a side attraction; everyone wants to watch me die.

 

There are nineteen people,

standing on each side of me,

gazing fixedly into the audience who stare back.

 

A boy to my left whimpers,

he's looking at his mother,

and his mother is looking at the ground.

 

Anger flares inside me,

"You look at your child!",

I shout at the women, making her jump.

 

Executioner brings his baton down on my shoulder,

and I bite my lip to keep from crying out,

my blood tastes bitter in my mouth.

 

The King's smug face drops,

and he waves his hand to his men,

and the drums start.

 

A face shoots out from the crowd,

beaten and bruised,

and I recognize him at once.

 

Executioner stomps to the edge of the platform,

and I have begun to panic slightly,

they've come to see me, so what if they seem me?

 

Drums continue to roll,

like the rhythm of my heart against my rib cage,

and then it stops.

 

The give ways fall,

and I'm swinging my neck,

staring death straight in the face.