A sigh of wind, gently caresses, the creaking rope
Unfocused glassy, lifeless eyes, are bereft of hope
There's a frozen snarl, on rigid lips, bloated purple
On the waxen countenance, of death's inner circle
It was, or maybe not, a final act to escape despair
To be somewhere else, but there's someone there
For a shadow, is stretching, under the old oak tree
Or mayhap, it's a deception, mortal eyes can't see
For there's nothing here, except for crumbling bark
Like desiccated bones, it's lost, in the deepest dark
It's where the flesh will rot and the blood will curdle
Only a shadow survives here, in death's inner circle
Naught is living here, save what feeds 'neath hemp
And unbeing here, even the hell of life, might tempt
But like distant memories, it's only time, that warps
Within recurring nightmares, of the hanging corpse
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