This poem came to me kind of on a whilm after listening on how they killed witches during the middle ages, review even if you don't like it I don't really care...

Executioners Last Words

Their bloated bodes sway in the slow breeze,

This hood is my protection,

My salvation…

I set the wood to burn,

I pulled the leaver and saw them drop…

The strangled cries,

The writhing bodies…

God places the guilty as well as the innocent in my path…

Yet I cannot save a one!

My job is to bring death

I am the Grim Reaper in flesh,

I am Gods forsaken child,

I am an executioner,

And death haunts my soul for all eternity…