This morning there are no rods or staffs
to comfort you dressed as a target,
as you amble in your chains that lead to our make shift valley of death,
in the prison's backyard, where you'll give us your final breath.

Last night I saw you dine with lovers and human tears.
But glanced at me in ways that brought to life my sleeping fears

that today you'll bite my neck, today you'll bite my neck.

and peel away the aging skin,
expose the lifeless body, and the void
of divinity within ( I watched my temple fall to pieces).

So tell me when I've read your rights,
when the guns are in their place,
when your crime no longer seems absurd.

When your crimes are no longer absurd,
What will you say Kezia, when we ask what are your final words?