3Guillotine
Due twilight, I weep with sorrow
Forgive me love for I have sinned!
And on the morrow my fate will be—
Set in stone just on the morrow!
Cursed and damned, my soul disposed
Though my emotions still linger
Here in my marrow where death dozed
And Banshee! She cried, and posed
Hold me darling, for I have sinned
And death will take me on the morrow
And stain my fingertips with those tears
That shall be shed on the morrow!
Enough, I must take leave
And lay my head upon the block
Where blade shall meet flesh
And my head roll into the whicker
A/N: I wrote this poem after reading several medieval stories. I hope you enjoy it . The title explains everything. If you have any questions please feel free to contact me, and PLEASE I beg you, leave criticism so I may improve. I know I have a long way to go. This is yet again, one of my earlier works.