Inmate Six

The Toll of Inmate 6

I cocked the trigger, I dropped the hammer,
Chasing a life I thought was glamor.
But the flash of the barrel is a fleeting light,
And life has changed in the dead of night.
If only I refrained, if only I’d seen,
The hollow end of this killing machine.
I hear the distant inmates’ clamour,
As guards approach in polished armour.
Echoes ring through the concrete hall:
"Do the crime, give up your time, give up it all."
A gallows pole is now my toll,
The weight of the iron upon my soul.
The Spiritual Appeal
Last rites are read, a spiritual appeal,
But the silence of God is the only thing real.
He whispered to me in a voice like thunder:
"Shouldn't have dropped that hammer, or torn life asunder."
My response was solemn as the end drew near,
Though I told the walls I felt no fear.
But the smell of death is thick and close,
A heavy, haunting, final dose.
Prayer now departed from my guardian’s hand,
As I leave the world of the living man.
The Reaper’s Receipt
The reaper chimed in with a hollow grin:
"No more games to play, let the fire begin.
Hell is coming your way, Inmate 6,
The clock has stopped its rhythmic ticks."
The inmates shout through the bars and steel:
"Should have cut a deal for an appeal!"
But now it’s late, the walk is straight,
With my own two hands, I sealed my fate.
The rope was set, the air grew thin,
The price was paid for the original sin.
The gallows pole took a heavy bend,
And Inmate 6 met his silent end.

Vinn Black