The Gallows

Please sit and listen.

To a man on a mission.

But it seems mission control has lost my soul’s patrol.

And hell is on a roll.

My soul a fool.

Rolling on an empty spool.

The thread torched or lost.

Satan now the boss.

A molehill on every mountain.

Another sip from the fountain.

That notion about happiness,

Sure, but first try this emptiness.

It’s wishful and sinful.

And will make your grin full.

I know you cannot ignore the lore.

It is just for you.  So don’t be a bore. Have more.

Swallow, wallow or just feel hollow.

I’ll meet you at the gallows.



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