The Gallows

A rise through the

Heights of the highest cloud.

Cloud nine, some call it

The sense of eternal well being and happiness.

Despair flairs up like the naught in the penitentiary.

Happiness like the cross in the gallery watching the gallows.

Noughts and crosses,

All life.

We are.

Eternal happiness, such a thing.

Imaginable? Practical?

Love is it true?


A figment of imagination?

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