A crowded square of medieval architecture
Shabby clothing torn & tared,
but faces full of anticipation
A solitary man walked the path
of burning flames from hell
Dragged along by tough men,
towards the wooden platform
Decorated with a single rope
hanging from above
A silent look of satisfaction,
passes through-out the crowed
A evil glint in the executioners eye
his foot prepared and ready
As the rope, tied in a hoop like shape
Laid around the dead mans neck
The crowd held there breath
As they waited for the moment
His eyes closed tight
As he whispered His final prayer
Then stool was kicked
The rope, it fell
And with a crack,
It broke his neck
