for what she was punished,
No one knew, no one knows.
Centuries passed without shedding a tear.
For she was there half of her life.
She was in love of writing poetry.
A sin so well determined by kings.
But she wrote in secret behind the bars.
Getting the stuff from a guard.
The last poem she wrote was the last day in Jail.
She left this world the same night.
And the title of the poem Was .
I hate freedom..I love poetry.
It a touching tale in a nice poem.Love it.