The Walk to the Scaffold

They held his hands from both his sides,
Down the narrow passage,
Their steps echoed forth,
But hardly heard by him,
His feet felt like heavy iron shoes,
His limbs numb, refusing to move,
He dragged himself forward,
His heart pounding hard,
Knowing these were its last beats
He tried to cherish every tread,
Knowing they wouldn't be retraced,
His throat was parched, his lips dry,
His eyes trying to cry,
He couldn't hear, couldn't think,
Couldn't even gulp,
Couldn't say a thing,
He tried to dry his eyes, to think of his life,
To regret his crimes, but remorse wasn't going to pay,
His loved ones seemed aeons away,
It mattered not, they'd forsaken him,
Now nothing was going to change,
No friends, no wife, no family could help him now,
His life stared back at him, an empty heap of thoughts,
He struggled within, his heart racing,
Until it settled on him,
He gave in, stopped resisting,
Letting it fill him up,
All he wanted now was for it to end,
And as quick as that could be,
He raised his head, glanced at the scaffold,
And it returned his empty gaze.

*Written on 20th May, 2016 at 5:53am at B001, H13, IIT Bombay while watching Jesse Pinkman being tortured on Breaking Bad
Title was previously The Walk to Death