The Hanging Man

I look down at my glass of water And in the shine I see A devil, of which I'm not a believer, Staring back at me. Well it’s time, I turn from the glass. And step on the sturdy chair It’s time to cross Styx, But Charon exacts a heavy fare The legs teeter-totter, tapping Impatiently on the dirty floor. I bow, embracing the noose like a crown And the chair crashes against the door. My windpipe screams against the rope As my neck tilts, tearing, twisting like a lie. I should have seen before I lost hope The world through crazed, bulging eyes. As reality fades, And darkness consumes, I feel I am not the hangman But that I have hung Man.