Guillotine

I heard screams from those marked for a guillotine death No compromises for their cries before taking a last breath Words of repentance for dastardly crimes were bemoaned Begging for mercy with fear and tears, curses were groaned My blade is always kept whetted for those who regretted and my cutthroat job is thought to be brutally inhumane "Oh, please!" I wanted to shout at the louts who fretted, "For only the briefest moment will I cause you any pain!" In modern days I would be aptly labeled a "French Press." Humorous, the thought, but I'd still create a bloody mess Hence, never should I ever be used inside of an abattoir Before I take a life, I always remember to say, "Au revoir." I abhor the taste of blood in my mouth and on my teeth Love to be cleaned before my blades are again in sheath When my deadly decapitation chore is over and complete heads I felled roll to lie supine at the executioner's feet People then clear the scene, to flee from me, the guillotine As if what they'd witnessed me do would wash them clean Maybe it was the act of my beheading they were dreading Hoping tomorrow it wouldn't be theirs that I'd be shredding