Louis XVI

*In 7th grade did a report type project on Louis the XVI and his beheading. This is the closest I can remember of what I wrote.  Mind you that was 14 years ago.*

I can hear the crowd. They are cheering my name. Not in support. In spite.

They want to see me dead. They want my head.

They walk me out. I look up one last time. No sun, no son today.

I take the steps slow. I have accepted my fate. They are still shouting. Such hate.

I speak. They don't care. Lord have mercy on their souls.

I lay my head. I start to cry. Don't show. No satisfaction for them.

I hear the cord. I hear the blade. It stops. The pain. I'm not dead. I can think. I hear a crack and then I see the executioner pushing the blade. My head is off my body. Sweet peace take me away.