The Gallows

February 22, 2018
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The gallows on the hill,

Rotting away,
And waiting to kill.

The man with a kind soul,
Found with his lover,
Will soon pay the toll.

Their love was frowned upon,
In front of the old church,
The execution was set at dawn.

And although their love was strong,
It would not take very long,
Before he was hung from the pole,
The man with the kind soul.

At their very final hour,
The air tasted sour.

They knew they were hated
As the gallows awaited,
Stares from people surrounding.

Before their departure,
They studied the structure
On the awaiting hill.
Quietly standing upright and ready for it's next kill.

The wood was splintered and dark,
The last victim had left a mark.
The thick rope hung down,
A frayed, unwelcoming crown.

As the man with the kind soul crossed the stage,
The crowd below him filled with rage,
He looked across to his lover,
Before his feet began to hover.

And it was on that fourteenth of July
That they never got to say goodbye.

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