To the gallows, with an empty stomach,
Bags full crescent beneath my eyes.
The thoughts hath lost me sleep,
The noose, not yet around my neck
Hath indebted my brain an ignorance
of food. My Pain, is this waiting, as I
Move towards certain peril.
A snap
Like the branches 'neathe a snow
doth haunt this weary soul that's
stayed afloat for flailing limbs that
Tire not, lest the land breaking horizon
greets me with that twine and lumber.
Then I tire, but never pause,
for certain peril is no match
for my pride's surrender.
To the gallows, with an empty stomach,
I move.
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