Gallows
Walking up the steps to the gallows rope,
Hands bound tightly behind me, there is no hope.
The hangman, the preacher and the crowd all want me dead,
For what I’ve done or something I’ve said.
They haven’t given me a chance to explain,
Why I’m not the man who caused all this pain.
As they slip the hood down over my eyes,
It dawns on me as I realize,
Why I’m doomed and can’t go back,
Because in their white world they only see my black.
2019 Miracle Mile Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
2/18/19
Copyright © Timothy Mcguire | Year Posted 2018
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