Poem: Hang Man
Hang Man I’m hungry, No, Your not, Yes, you are, What? I don’t know anymore, This feeling of hunger, Is starving me, Why won’t I allow myself to eat? I’m getting angry and tired, Repulsive and withered, My flesh is falling off the bone. My head is tied up, Hanging on its last thoughts, I sway as the wind blows. And as the crowd’s cackle, The bewitching hour, Draws to a close, I’m merely one of many, Hanging in a row.