Scapegoat

For the men that don't love themselves
As much as they are loved

I will bow my head for you,
Bare my slender neck,
Say a last little prayer
That no one will hear.
I will fill my lungs
One last time
With the dying breath
That was yours to breathe.
I will not cry a single tear
Nor beg for the mercy you deserve;
I will bravely await the blade
That was meant for you.
And when my head drops
Onto the bare wood below,
And as the guillotine rises,
Red with wasted innocent life,
My soul will not regret.

I will wear your scarlet letter
Brazenly upon my chest,
Never disputing the crime
That I did not commit.
My glance will never rise,
Acknowledging your shame;
My words will not betray
The guiltless nature of my being.
Taunts, jeers, insults and slander
Aimed at me will not miss their mark,
Nor will a word to defend
Ever escape my lips.
No, I will not dispute your crime
Displayed upon my dress;
I will not lament disgraceful
Misdirected solitude.
And when my shameful grave is dug,
And my family name stricken from the Book,
And my children's bastardized lives
Become wives' tales of old,
My soul will not regret.

I will let them pierce my skin,
Close my eyes to the hammer
As it pounds each nail into my limbs,
Sigh and slowly reflect
On the life I lived in love
And will not cry out
When someone stabs my side,
Even though it was you
Who should have died.
I will embrace the sun's rays
As they beat upon my battered skin
And I will not betray the lie
That keeps me on the cross –
And when my last breath is breathed,
And I have condemned no one,
And no tears of self loathing
Or self pity, or repentance
On my own behalf have fallen,
When my exhausted body
Exhausts its last heartbeat –
My soul will not regret.

No, I will never regret
What I have done for you.