the wish for the rich.
A man, born into poverty is not always struggling, those days come and last but he knows they will pass, when darkness settles over the land, the man goes mad, but the tiny hand in his grounds him from the hell made from creatures of the rich, he wishes for things to switch, royal blood, always so bright and shiny, rotten on the inside, he knows since his job is to behead the people they want gone, it's dirty work, but anything that feeds his family, a mother, father, and a tiny baby, things like to terror them for the lives he has took, he gives without return, burned gifts as people whisper bad luck.
He never falters, he never stops, that doesn't mean his mind follow's how his body goes, he beheaded the son of the towns cook since the boy didn't want to be the dutchess pet, she said he had assaulted her, the most he done was assault her dignity, yet he had to comply, for that's the life of this time.
He can scream and cry all he wants, but soon he will have to pass it down to his child, his sweet little baby will bear the burden of shame, death and blame.
Nothing he can do but wish, wish that the royal waver's, that they fall to the hands of another, he makes the journey up the hill, past the land no one goes, to the nearest town, and tells them things that should never get out.
His job is done, the royals shall lose, all he wishes for is it to be done before they find out its him who took information, his wife, bless her heart my lord, my child, far gone with others that wished the same, may you guide them to safety, he knows God's can be as greedy as the rich, but they never ignore a dying man's wish.