Close

Death is nothing.

It is something I have faced

and is facing now.

My hands tied around a pole

cutting into my wrists.

The crowd around me jeers.

I smile back,

my dried, chapped lips,

hurting with every movement.

The executioner raises a flaming torch

The crowd is louder

The wood piled around me lights up

Flames flicker around me

I close my eyes,

and let myself drift slowly

into the unknown darkness.

Untitled


By Kiki L.

View more poems from Hornsby Girls High School, 2013