The Executioned Poem by Kim Jones

I'm hung on a noose twenty feet high
All grace is gone and now I must cry
They have been tricked, so now I will die.

The damage is done; the lie has been told,
The heart being burned turns out nothing but mold,
And their mistake is realized as my corpse turns cold.

The trusted adviser was only a cover
I tried to tell them, but my voice was smothered
And he's content stealing my life until he finds another.