A Poem in Two Parts

1
Will these hands that write
One day decay in the grave?
Will the marks of a noose be on them?
Will these hands that write
Not reach their goals
Hanging from a final noose?

2
Don’t forget
Don’t untie my blindfold
There’s nothing left for me to see
Nor open my hands
My chest will be filled with dirt
Just lend me a pair of shoes
Because there’s a long road in the dark
Left for me