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The twilight hours fade

As I look to the sky

Reflecting back on my past life, scrutiny

No man made gods to condemn my verse

I was torn from what was mine

Cast out from my home

Forced to live the life of a fugitive

For an unjustified crime

I will not give in

What's so wrong with writing

What comes from inside?

Must a man be killed

For what he believes?

The zealots erupt with condemnations

For my own words are proclaimed as heresy

Sentences and yet unsanctioned

Is my soon martyred head

What's so wrong with writing

What comes from inside?

I will give my life

For what I believe

Distraught and on the run

My life force has been drained

Vengeful eyes are homing in on me

No chance to please my cause

Driven to flee

By the disciples of a twisted king

Predators are angered

Biased visions full of lies

I will not give in

What's so wrong with writing

What comes from inside?

Must a man be killed

For what he believes?

What's so wrong with writing

What comes from inside?

My mortal death will make

An immortal stand