Marilyn Stevens Poet I do not know?

Death of a Visionary

They said I was a saviour, 
A hero through and through
Then they turn around
And laugh at what I do. 

Consumed by greed, 
Ignorance and malice, 
Searching for the prize, 
A golden chalice. 

A prize that was mine
And supposedly eternal
Torn from my soul
In my world infernal

For hell it is
Where I have reigned, 
Instead of heaven
As once ordained. 

All is lost now
Tolling are the bells
A paupers grave
Will suit them very well

Though it may be murder
'Cause it's plain to see
They've proved they would do anything
To get rid of me. 

For once I am gone
They will be me
Then God help the world
I pray you stay free.

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