Not Dead Yet

Well, I’m not dead yet.
Romans are pretty good about that.
Beaten, bloodied, and broken.
But not dead.

Crack
Another strip of skin
Gone.
An Inch of life growing shorter
With every swing of the whip.

Crack
Flesh
Torn away,
But I’m not dead yet.
Why not?
Haven’t I suffered enough?
Just kill me.

Nothing
An untying of hands
A sword thrust into my hand.
“You’re next, boy, the lions are waiting.”

Gripping the hilt
I stagger to my feet.
Stumbling to the arena.
Well, I’m not dead, yet.