Hang Man I’m hungry,
No, 
Your not,
Yes, 
you are,
What?

I don’t know anymore,
This feeling of hunger,
Is starving me,
Why won’t I allow myself to eat?

I’m getting angry and tired,
Repulsive and withered,
My flesh is falling off the bone.

My head is tied up,
Hanging on its last thoughts,
I sway as the wind blows.

And as the crowd’s cackle,
The bewitching hour,
Draws to a close,
I’m merely one of many,
Hanging in a row.