Hanging For Help

• Samantha Neal, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2013

The rope starts to itch,
The sweat of his neck,
He writes that letter,
Whose lives he will wreck.
Thoughts racing,
He hastily writes,
It was all too hard,
He could no longer fight.
He breathes in slow,
His final breath,
Realizing that this,
Is his death.
Looking at the note,
His eyes blood red,
He slides off the chair. Gone.
Dead.