Tuesday, 27 November 2012


Doesn't matter what I do,
No matter what I say.
Whoever I say it to,
for at the end of the day-

I'm wrong,
I'm faulty.
A criminal,
I'm guilty.

Am broken, to be fixed.
I can be, but am not.
Most wanted for what I did,
yet wanted, am not.

What could I have done?
Often I ask aloud.
Off with his head,
Is all I hear them shout.

Forever in their eyes,
guilty I'll remain.
They want a price,
for their suffering, my pain.

My life, they may take,
my body, they may burn.
But no matter what they say,
my conscience,
they can never take away.

(We might declare someone guilty. But he is not guilty till he feels guilty. Hanging him changes nothing at all.)


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