My neck, <br />a victim of my bad deeds, <br />will know no longer <br />how it feels to swallow a last meal <br />or regurgitate a good amount of whiskey. <br /> <br />My eyes, <br />witnesses to my felonies and faults <br />will know no longer the sight <br />of a handsome man nor the sting <br />of the summer sun. <br /> <br />They all wish to see my body fall <br />and spasm from the shock <br />of Death's claiming of my body. <br />Perhaps I am forgiven by <br />the man of sorrows, <br />but the people spit on me. <br /> <br />'May God have mercy on your soul.' <br />I suddenly gasp and see the night being <br />born in the distance. <br />Sun is letting Moon come forth. <br />The last thing heard is the roaring crowd, <br />and the opening of hell below...<br /><br />Melissa Hurst<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-criminal-s-end/
