The Gallow Tree

Fuck the bullshit. Hit the fan. Am I still a man? The flesh pried loose, Shaped into a noose. Slipped about my neck, and dragged into the wreck. The gallow tree stands tall and looms even as the springtime blooms. Any last words? I am asked. And all that comes to mind is "Finally peace at last." The crowd they stare at my soul so bare. Flayed for all to be displayed. I shut my eyes and hold my breath. Waiting for the sweet embrace of Death. The man in black pulls down his hood as I hear the creaking of wood. May God have mercy on your soul. Is the last thing I hear before I am plunged into the cold. The switch of Death has been flicked and my legs begin to kick. My neck did not break, I am still awake. My lungs they spasm earnestly. Trying to drawn a breath in me. My vision tunnels in and out as I flail all about. Then I need to breathe no more. I am standing at Death's door. He greets me in with a maniacal grin. Asks me was it worth the pain. The only thing I can think to say is that for her I would do it all again.