The Martyr

All I can hear is silence

and my feeble heart with its feeble beat,

And a muffled sort of laughter

as you parade around the street

With your sparkling eyes

and love overflowed-

So this is how you've paid me back

for all that I was owed?

          Not that I asked for much in return,

          I gave myself selflessly;

          And you took me, smiling, in your hand

          and shattered me selfishly.


All I can taste is teardrops

rolling thick between my lips,

And a sweet sensation on my tongue

I remember from your kiss.

With your delicate fingers

entwined in mine,

I cannot help myself

but remain shackled in that time.

          Not that I would rather live unbound

          without these restraints on my limbs;

          Freedom has too large a price to pay-

          to be free I must never have lived.


All I can feel is a hollow-

my heart pounds upon empty tin walls-

And a deep, resounding echo

as the memories begin to fall.

With your whispers filling my lungs

and your scent the pulse in my veins,

How could I ever forget you?

How else would I live through the pain?

          Yet how do I find my relief,

          when the one that I love does sit

          On the royal throne and, with a wave of her hand,

          orders the executioner to finish it?


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