Hangman
Wonder what the hangman had in mind
When he was looking in the doomed man’s eyes,
While double-checking if the noose was right
Did he have haunting, hollow dreams at night?
Did he empathize with the condemned lost mind?
Was it compassion for beloved left behind?
Or just revulsion for the cruel crimes
With helpless victims’ last and feeble cries?
Or maybe he had nothing to think of,
And maybe he was nothing more than bored,
The sooner tightened he the stubborn rope,
The sooner he would finally hasten home.
To love and kiss and hug his wife and kids,
To satisfy his normal, basic needs,
To pour himself a glass of tasteless wine,
Wonder what the hangman had in mind?
What did he think of at his time to go?
The sweaty hood, the gallows, or the rope?
Or the wide, tear-filled eyes without a hope?
Dark mysteries the rest shall never know.
February 8, 2020
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