Dying Thoughts

this was originally for a contest and i used a word bank. its sapposed to be the last thoughts of a trapped woman who is about to meet her fate.

Starring from my window 
to the grass beyond these bars
In this man made prison
I long for the feel of something other
than hard concrete beneath my feet
The wind outside howls
and the shingles on the house start to clang
The glare from headlights fills the room, 
As I try to catch my footing
I hear the lock tumble
The door creaks open 
the room is suddenly filled with the aroma of liquor
The last thing I see before
darkness consumes me is the a cloth
coming at me and the gleam of your blade