Hangman's Gallows
By: Adam M. Snow

The hangman cometh,
to the gallows oaken,
the reapers awaken,
to mend the broken.
The mourners mourn,
a soul that was scorn.

Your judgment comes,
now's the end,
like a dying friend,
laying you at rest,
in a hollowed coffin,
as they dance and jest.

The mark of noose,
around your neck,
if weakness may excuse.
They dance and dance,
they jest and jest,
your blood drips to the deck.

To the blood of dawn,
to the black of dusk,
all tears are gone,
and all who brusque.
All's unspoken,
you're forsaken.

The children screaming,
mothers stopped dreaming,
your body's hanging,
from a waning noose.
All you've done,
your life's abuse.

By dawn the reaper weary,
as time grew dark and eerie.
The hangman cometh,
to the gallows oaken,
with a gauntlet of raw,
for you, who's broken.