Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
a Apr 2015
The noose is brittle but strong, warmed by the heat of the day,
ready to be hoisted upon your neck, and hail all those troubles away.
Yet speak a few words and that won't be done, but be careful as you talk,
for the hangman arrives to take your words the
moment you utter the one that’s wrong.
Awesome Annie Apr 2015
I wanted to fill the cracks of his mind, and breathe his very breath. Need consumed by deep desire, leaving me scared to death.

I hung a rope on that tree, where I used to kneel and pray. Struggling to keep my head up, waiting for something he refused to say.

I wanted to slip and fall into arms, eager to break my fall. Scattered hopes cast about, that are just shadow puppets on the wall.

I cupped my hands to catch his tears, but the favor was never repaid. Slip the rope around my neck, in hopes to repair the mess I made.

I wasted all my saved up wishes, just in the end to tie the knot. I finally took that step and hang myself, with all the promises he forgot.
mark john junor Oct 2014
fragile heart she lay ruptured in my lounge chair
grey faced i mumble a few parting words over her
before i lay out the finest bone china
all the makings of tea and biscuits
all the fixings of ******
with the sounds of the snapping of necks
sharp wet sound fresh on the air
she was here to mourn her lover-boy
gone astray
i was here to see the deed done

i was the grey faced hangman
come to get his pennys
in my song you can hear the rope snap
in my heart you can feel the fall from the gallows
and my hangman's noose swinging in breeze
has its own peculiar creaking sound that sounds
like love to me
i was the grey faced hangman
that knows no sympathy
come now you wicked ones
sing my song with me

grey faced i lead the procession
up the graveyard road
the overgrown and thick summer feel to it
claws at the senses
but i keep walking stiffly
with the sound
of snapping necks ringing in my ears
its my song

he had cried like a child as they carried him to the gallows
he had begged and wailed
but my hangman's noose had claimed him
cold comfort awaits
to the tomb they cried out with joy
to the tomb with the scoundrel
while she lay weeping her lost lover-boy
and while grey faced i cleansed the world
of scoundrels like him
while grey faced i silently mourned
for i had run out of rope
(a little halloween for you)

— The End —