Friday, November 21, 2014


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.

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