The Rope.

The rope pulls tighter.
Blood streams faster.
Death shall be here soon.
The rope bites deeper.
A scream resounds,
reverberates through the room.
Pain.
Anger.
Loneliness.
All are present.
Death drifts closer on silent wings.
To take you away from all wordly things.
But think hard on this,
for it shall haunt you through your dying.
What of those you leave behind,
The ones who will be crying?