Note to the Hangmen
by: E. A. Bartholomew

A storm is brewing in my head
My passion overflows
The moment ceased and promptly fled
As fast as lightning glows

The screaming thunder of my lust
Words echo down these halls
The resonance of dying trust
Bids kill me with its calls

My heart is not the blackest, nay!
Nor is it purest white
Nor does it shine the light of day
Nor spread the dark of night

So why, then, should I pay the price?
I show no ill extreme
My burning soul shan't tempt the ice
To trickle to the stream

It shall not turn the tender heat
To cold and bitter rain
It shall not cause the rye and wheat
To purge their precious grain

It shall not cause intrepid tides
To cease their ebb and flow
The forceful wind on which leaves ride
Shall not desist its blow

It shan't evoke the folk and lore
To terminate their rhyme
But most of all, I do endure,
My sin shall not stop time

Your lives will surely ramble on
Your tasks shall see their end
The will for life shall not be gone
If Death, for you shan't send

You all will not hear Angels' chants
Nor hear the howl of Ghouls
Nor will you watch the Demons dance
'Round hordes of fearless fools

But I, my friends, if be my fate
Will die at hands of man
Yet no such angels, on this date
Had record of this plan

I've not received a word from Death
From God, heard no decree
But on this day, I lose my breath
My life be took from me

Today, I find my body numb
Still fleeting from my soul
My eyes are blind, my tongue be dumb
Upon this gallows pole

And if I rise to Heaven high
Or find my course to Hell
Or do remain under this sky
Locked in an Earthly cell

I surely shall not be perturbed
My resolve will not disrate
I will not waver to disturb
You who sent me to my fate