IN THE DOCK

I live shackled and weeping in the dock

Of the courtroom of woeful omissions,

While those who hold keys to my chains and lock

Cast slurs by way of brisk expositions.

It seems the judgement of imprisoned fools

Is deemed always and evermore impaired.

Respect cannot be won under their rules,

Even esteem must nevermore be shared.

As I seek sleep but instead fight my chains

I work through each day of the nightmare time.

How could I have done more to force a change?

Why am I lower than the heirs of crime?

Now the baying crowd prowls around the dock

And calls my name to shame and then to mock.