execution
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Where now, I pray, is Lady Jane?
Now she is here on Tower Hill,
She walks with grace unto the block,
She stands a queen, not pale nor ill.
Come hither to this place to die!
They grow long, coming out the same homegetting thick by each slicerarely pulled by the core.
Wide-eyed, glassy stare
Dazed and confused
Reeling, recoiling
from possible
Impossibility
Windmills, grassy fields
Disappearing
Set upon in flames
from those leaders
I'd like to think my footsteps echo
off the white stone bridge
but such tranquil sounds overpowered
destroyed
by the dull roar of the arriving crowd
what stone should gleam instead is pale
She awoke in the dark, with the moon in her eyes.
She'd taken a chance; she'd been foiled by king's spies.
I can’t listen to the buzzing of the flies anymore.
No one finds them pleasing,
But every time I hear them now,
Standing in a row
See revulsion in their eyes
Together we stand
All wishing, hoping, praying
To be anywhere but here
