Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.188.180.227
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem


178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops, 
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.

That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!

Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout, 

'dead man walking.'

He sits savouring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.

Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.

Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!

Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying;

" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."

Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth, 
unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.

Wolves smile with sly eyes, 
as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.

He savours every step, he knows they are his last.

God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace, 
feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy 
of his own premature death.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required