Unwilling Martyr Poem by sal carter

I Lie. On the dusty floor.
Stretched out, while those around me
Cheer. Or cry. Or scream.
And raise their fists aloft.

First blood from the people.
First sacrifice to the cause.
First tear in the ocean.
First leaf to fall.

I lie. On The dusty floor.
Alone. In a clearing.
While the flags wave above me.
Celebrating my death.

Shot down from the masses.
Selected for death.
Volunteered for oblivion.
Voted to glory.

And chosen to be damned.

I lie. on the dusty floor.
Raised up on a pedestal by the people
Venerated in death.
The unwilling martyr.