My neck,
a victim of my bad deeds,
will know no longer
how it feels to swallow a last meal
or regurgitate a good amount of whiskey.

My eyes,
witnesses to my felonies and faults
will know no longer the sight
of a handsome man nor the sting
of the summer sun.

They all wish to see my body fall
and spasm from the shock
of Death's claiming of my body.
Perhaps I am forgiven by
the man of sorrows,
but the people spit on me.

'May God have mercy on your soul.'
I suddenly gasp and see the night being
born in the distance.
Sun is letting Moon come forth.
The last thing heard is the roaring crowd,
and the opening of hell below...

Melissa Hurst

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-criminal-s-end/