One black day,
In the gelid rain,
The clouds begin to crackle,
The gallows lie silent,
Save for one unholy sound,


His laugh,
A chortle unending,
The one convicted,
In fits of hysterical amusement,
Despite the grim circumstance,


A skeletal man,
A sick man,
His crimes too ghastly to mention,
But perhaps irrelevant,
Exorcising such an affront was its own excuse,


His giggling emanated,
Containing such madness,
As to insult nature herself,
A vile cackle,
Even as the mans throat bled,


He never stopped,
Even as the drop commenced,
And the horrific snap,
He kept laughing,
A limp body howling in joy,


Many years later,
Upon a stroll through the graves,
Something gave me the chills,
I could still hear him laughing,
Even beneath the corrupted earth,

He’d never stopped.

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