Bequeathed

Lying under the hanging blade; death will descend to grasp me . . .

The masked reaper arrives

to bequeath me from

my self-proclaimed throne

*

Yet I take solace in

skipping down the steps

to tip-toe

and kiss his scythe

~

For I want to be rid

of thorns grown on roses

and he comes to reap

what the deities

have sown

*

Therefor

I bend without restraint

under the guillotine

awaiting salvation

to drop

and unburden my life

Author's Note

Photo courtesy of ChrisRawlins on Deviant Art.

Reviews

[Rhianne Ney]

I love the medieval era theme! 100/100