The Assassin

My mind is still and sound,
My ears block out the background
As my eyes dart all around
To seek the man who witnesses my crowned
Head that it rests upon in front of the crowd.
I see an arrow strown and wound
Around the hand of a heartless drowned
Soul that seeks for the heart of my gowned
Dress that drapes crossly as I sit in a mound
Waiting for the arrow to hit my round
Skull or a target that the assassin has found
To cut my brain that is still and sound.