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11/26/2009 2:26:01 PM
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My neck, a victim of my bad deeds, will know no longer how it feels to swallow a last meal or regurgitate a good amount of whiskey. My eyes, witnesses to my felonies and faults will know no longer the sight of a handsome man nor the sting of the summer sun. They all wish to see my body fall and spasm from the shock of Death's claiming of my body. Perhaps I am forgiven by the man of sorrows, but the people spit on me. 'May God have mercy on your soul.' I suddenly gasp and see the night being born in the distance. Sun is letting Moon come forth. The last thing heard is the roaring crowd, and the opening of hell below... Melissa Hurst
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