The Hanging

The rain tapped the roof of the warehouse,

as if the dull skies were mourning my death.

Awaiting my perishing body to douse,

into dull darkness with a final breath.

My friend goes before me,

neither fear, nor remorse facades his eyes.

Ahead of him is the same destiny,

the heinous abyss or the allure skies.

Time passes, time goes...I wait for my fate

as I ponder, why did I not get to live?

I know there will be no love, only hate,

the world can’t find it in their hearts to forgive.

I wait, what seems like years, is really only hours,

waiting my turn to hang from stifling rope.

I dream, a haunting snake is what devours,

my memories, my frail soul, my hope.

Its my turn, I ascend the thirteen stairs,

they creak and churn under my aching limbs.

My life is not on my hands, it’s in thiers,

the chaplain continues to murmur hymns.

I look at each and every one of them all,

only revenge veils their glaring eyes.

I hold in my tears and try not to bawl,
as the time creeps closer to my demise.

I swiftly drop, suspended in the air,

the gallow’s rope holds firm on my throat.

Though not a believer, I make my first prayer

take my final breath, and journey someplace remote.