A Poem: The Final Hour

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The Final Hour 
by Marsha Marie

The walls around me are closing in. 
The air seems thick and used. 
I hear the whispers and sighs of enveloped friends. 
The shutting of the door, a sign of finality. 
I breath thru the bottom of the door. 
The angel of death taunts me. 
Can I say good-bye, a final hello. 
Prepare me like a child in my final hour.
The needles go down, 
I close my eyes. Regrets explode.
And I disconnect from a world, the one who never really knew me. 


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Men and women who are on death row around the world feel forgotten and out of hope. Consider becoming a penfriend with them. There are several websites that offer such services for these hopeless individuals.

A few are:

WriteAPrisoner.com
HumanWrites.org
WomenAndPrison.org
BetweenTheBars.org




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