the rope tightens around my neck,
bruising the delicate skin.
the sky is black
no stars are in sight
like the darkest pits of hell.
dark, bloody tears drip down my cheeks
while i pray that it isn't real.
pale, faceless people,
like Japanese noppera-bō,
laugh mockingly,
their cruel giggles
echoing like birdsong in a canyon.
a sadistic smile
pulls at the hooded man's face
as he pulls the lever.
my neck snaps
and then
i open my eyes,
safe.
YOU ARE READING
rain
Poetrypoems from dreams and nightmares flow from pen to page incredible rainbows of words painting pictures in my head they can make or break a story swirls of light and dark like fresh sweet air or suffocating fog how is it that pain can be so poetic?
