Spoiled rotten from what she thinks she deserves
Handed over to the someone else to decide her fate
A wanderer, with no family to claim her
So there would be no reward.
She handed a coin to the jailor
Whispered to him “Primum non nocere.”
Then blew a powder in his face.
He fell to the ground, dead
Which couldn’t possibly be blamed on her
Since she was behind bars.
They released her the next day
She uttered “legum servi sumus ut liberi esse possimus” at the guard.
Endless paths take her in so many directions
As if life slips past her too easily.
When she is rested and comfortable one day
A man slips into her house with a sword
As he pushes it into her heart
“Non omnis moriar.”