The Young Martyr

I tied my wrists

Hung them on a noose

For committing every

Terrible crime in existence

And I figured myself

To be a witch,

So I walked into

The water, and I floated

Above the heavens

As an angel

But the pitch fork

Had been held higher

Than a bounty

And I tried and convicted

Myself of a crime

I did not commit

But I've held the knife,

And they took me out

Of the bed I slept with

And they drew my name

With stones, as they've 

Cut my head off, held

It as a trophy

While it hung on the

Wall.

And I floated heavenly,

Body burned as a 

Dove came from the

Ashes, and for my beliefs

I was given wings and

A flaming sword