Shink! The guillotine blade drops,
The head falls into the basket.
“Next!” calls the hooded executioner.
A man wearing a suit and tie walks to the platform,
Escorted by two armed guards.

He might’ve been a lawyer, or some kind of businessman,
Now he is just one of the thousands of “criminals”,
A traitor against the “Grand Empire”.
He struggles with the guards, but to no avail;
His head is forced under the blade, and it is disconnected from his body.
His body is thrown into a quickly dug grave,
With an unengraved tombstone, as the executioner calls for the next victim.

The person in front of me calmly steps to the guillotine.
I knew him; he is here for the same reason I am,
He spoke against our “Grand Magnificent Leader”.
He does not struggle, he knows it is useless.
His head is separated from his body, and the latter is disposed of.

As the executioner pulls the rope to raise the blade, it snaps.
Thoughts of escape flash through my mind,
But there is nowhere to run.
A man several spots behind me attempts to escape,
But he is mowed down before he can go 10 feet.

The rope on the guillotine is replaced,
The executioner demands, “Next!”
I walk up to the platform, escorted by guards.
A cold rain begins to fall from the smog-filled sky.