Ears drummed into the soil from the ground. My eyes gawked as blood slowly dripped from the side of my mouth.

Arm stretched out wide, wrestling with asphyxiation, yet in my eyes, you walk away. In my head, you are slowly fading, dematerialising yet you show your back.

Blood under your fingertips from the chains you clamped around my neck. Chest bare by the whip you leashed upon it. Flesh removed from the chains, drenched in pain, you attack.

Yet I reach out, hoping you take my hand. My hands bled from the irons you fastened to my hands. Burnt flesh fills the atmosphere as I start to choke with the hole in my chest.

You tempt me with a crusted blade arm’s reach away. Pain gawks at your lungs as I see not this blade, for my eyes see none other than darkness you inflicted by your crows.

Tears of blood shed for you, yet you wash your hands of me. You pass the tears stain off your hands as you soon wear gloves. You keep me as a hound locked up, so you may endeavour my pain.

Little do your patrician know they drinketh tears. Wine spilt is blood tears I shed, but you serve with a smile, and I no longer breathe.