swinging from the gallows

I was a wet towel
for months on end.
you could wring me out,
soaked and heavy
with emotion,
the tears, the fear,
the anxiety,
the tension
and suspicion. I was
wound tight.
a ball of nerves.
walking on eggshells,
day in, day out,
spinning like a top
all night.
no matter where I was
I was lost.
in a daze, everything
was wrong, when so much
before, was right.
I was a dead man walking.
going up the stairs
to the gallows each day.
waiting with a rope
around my neck, waiting
for the trap door
to open, and for me
to swing
mercifully to an early
death.
but the governor called.
and i'm free, outside
the walls once
more.