Gallows

Leave these words to rust
Among the tools of my destruction
Bronzed and dated from frequent use
The only proof of self abuse

Old and worn is this noose
Hung from beams of lyrical structures
And a neck awaits its itch
The rough caress of woven stitch

Fingers ache, begin to twitch
Is it time to kick the chair
From beneath misguided feet
Leave a broken, wooden seat

And the taste of it is sweet
But a thought convicts my reason
Making bitter my desires
And the voices little liars

But soon my strength expires
And my chances will be gone
No one knows of my decision
I don't wish to raise suspicion

So I've come to my conclusion
Suffocation does not appeal
I'd rather sink within my verses
Choke on them as though they're curses