Feats have often times been carried
Like the burdens of the many
Deemed and seen as necessary
Beyond your will you shall bury
Here's your shovel, wave goodbye
To your life, yes, kiss it gently
Hold your mother one last time
Build your father a dream to carry
The crowd shouts, they carry on
Calling for blood, judge and jury
The crown that they despised
Hid from their blinded eyes, their fickle fury
My life now in their hands
They'll understand all that
They'll ever need to
Here I say, the craft of witches
Call to gods to induce visions
Heresy, they say I'm living
For the devils, death is given
Lifted my eyes to the heavens
Shared a moment, in the present
Whispers from my lips, he heard me
Tears they fell, but they didn't save me
Ignorance lacks understanding
Funny how this crowds demanding
For us to wear this cross, this stake
It tastes like the mistakes they made
He mapped it out with his finger in the sand
She watched to understand, understood
And took his hand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem