By Alannah Murray
I sit in my cell Waiting to see if I shall be Condemned. Months of war becomes a Sickening, deafening Silence. The silent shadows of weary travellers Creep up my cell at night having Seen their own Reckoning. I am lead now to the gallows, and a Noose Is drawn around my neck. May 25th has arrived. So, what have you decided, Executioner? Silence; or salvation?