The Guillotine

Back in time, sipping fine wine, shoes shined.
A jesters call, entertain me, watch me dine.
Juggling, laughing at your struggling.
Bells on your hat ringing, dancing, singing, pleaing.
My King spare me.
Is this pleasing?
Marching towards the guillotine.
My actions keen. No in between.
You wear the crown.
I intentionally shove myself to the ground.
The words hanging on the very tip of your tongue.
About to go off like a loaded gun.
Taking joy in watching me run.
Skip, hop, jump. Are you having fun?
Jump rope with razor blades.
Sitting on your throne, throwing the cards of your only game.
The King. Remembered for a name.
Forgotten of his shame.
Putting those to blame.
At the edge of his seat.
Stomping his feet.
Doused in undeserving fame.
Throned only for a name.
The Queen the same?
No I'm afraid. Dead it seems.
To me it was the Kings own selfish scheme.
Now I believe.
This kingdom has fallen apart.
Strap me in, spin me around, keep throwing your darts.
Hushed music, showing me the way to rip out your heart.
Take your time, I'll entertain you just fine.
Now for some wine.
In your drunken stupor,
Let me show you something super.
Bottle to the back of your head.
But don't worry I made sure you weren't dead.
Awaking with a bag over your head with no words to be said.
Uncovering your face.
The crowd cheers at your disgrace.
Arms and head locked in.
Feet struggling to begin.
All of your lies seen.
Dropping the blade of the guillotine.
Preparation of a well deserved decapitation.
For all your left behind lacerations.