The Hanging

The Hanging
A strangers spit scolds my neck,
I complacently acknowledge,
no time to waste,
the show must go on, the show must go on
Their eyes, sharp as knives,
judge me, hate me, kill me, hang me
The hell im going to couldn't possibly compare
to the tears falling down my mothers face
and the scars that take my place
The noose tightens,
executioners glance catches mine
His eyes... milky and dead
No second chance, no last breath