The Hanging Tree
A Haunted Place Spirits Cry and wail
The Hanging Tree
Under the boughs of a solemn tree,
They strung him up for all to see.
A tale of darkness, a shadowed plight,
In the chill of dawn, before the light.
"Let me live," he begged, his voice a plea,
"I'll mend my ways, just set me free."
Yet fate was cruel, justice blind,
As loved ones gathered, hearts confined.
Mothers wept, fathers stood tall,
Brothers grieved, recalling it all.
For every wrong, there’s pain to bear,
A life once lost, shrouded in despair.
In the dawning hour, he faced the crowd,
His heart a storm, his spirit loud.
And so he swung, a bitter end,
A warning tale time can't amend.
Now he haunts the hanging tree,
His ghost crying, "Please set me free."
Like all others hung there before,
Death is final; death has no door.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.