17 dark days in this lonely cell.
They say, I've heard;
"What goes around comes back around."
And it did.
The shackles had been broken
and time seemed to have frozen.
The line had been drawn
and when the judge uttered those words,
I had seen it coming.
You don't azonto around fire
and expect not to sweat.
This time, though,
my tattered clothes had caught fire!
& now my aching body.
3 days left before the little
that is left of me burns to ashes,
turns to ashes.
Why would rain come falling
in the middle of the harvest??
I had cut down so many innocent trees,
I think nature was punishing me.
& I expected it, of course.
I expected retribution.
I expected to suffer.
But not in this manner.
Counting down long weeks, days, hours
and then minutes, soon, to your death,
had to be the most inhumane penalty.
"What is more wicked than suicide?",
My friend once asked me.
"Killing yourself a million times
before someone else noosed you."
I wish I would have answered this then...
Now that I knew better.
Now that I was shoulder-length deep
into the waters I was to drown in.
& my chin was touching the surface,
my beard choking in these mean cold waters.
My hands couldn't help now
like they had helped me before.
Someone had the key to their actions now.
The best I could do was greet my other hand..
as if to congratulate myself for my stupidity.
Or reintroduce myself to me
and say "Nice not to meet you"
and talk to myself.
and go mad.
and all that stuff.
There was no one close by.
Maybe the unmotivated guard outside my door.
and he kept asking me to not worry.
SHUT UP, is what I wanted to say
but a weak "I'll try" is what kept coming out.
I had a few days left to live;
I guess that pressure is bound to blow a few things
out of proportion.
Like what life really meant to me.
Why was I living?
What was I about to leave this world with?
What would people remember me for?
The heartless murderer?
The evil man?
How did all these happen?
Had I just fallen into a hole I would not get out of?
I think I had taken out so much
than I had given back.
I was selfish and my motives were screwed.
I was evil and I eventually pleaded guilty.
I wasn't ready to run around in circles.
I was cornered and my days numbered.
I had been cheap and this was its ramification:
3 days left to breathe,
and the world too far away from me,
to hear what I have to say.
That I am sorry.
So I scream out loud,
with a message tonight.
I'm anxious and death seems to beckon me louder.
I'm trapped in its voice, it's loud
so I have to scream louder.
I have to overcome my limits once more.
and I silently hope someone somewhere will hear my unwelcome scream,
even if it is just its whisper.
I expected retribution.
I expected to suffer.
But not in this manner.
Counting down long weeks, days, hours
and then minutes, soon, to your death,
had to be the most inhumane penalty.
"What is more wicked than suicide?",
My friend once asked me.
"Killing yourself a million times
before someone else noosed you."
I wish I would have answered this then...
Now that I knew better.
Now that I was shoulder-length deep
into the waters I was to drown in.
& my chin was touching the surface,
my beard choking in these mean cold waters.
My hands couldn't help now
like they had helped me before.
Someone had the key to their actions now.
The best I could do was greet my other hand..
as if to congratulate myself for my stupidity.
Or reintroduce myself to me
and say "Nice not to meet you"
and talk to myself.
and go mad.
and all that stuff.
There was no one close by.
Maybe the unmotivated guard outside my door.
and he kept asking me to not worry.
SHUT UP, is what I wanted to say
but a weak "I'll try" is what kept coming out.
I had a few days left to live;
I guess that pressure is bound to blow a few things
out of proportion.
Like what life really meant to me.
Why was I living?
What was I about to leave this world with?
What would people remember me for?
The heartless murderer?
The evil man?
How did all these happen?
Had I just fallen into a hole I would not get out of?
I think I had taken out so much
than I had given back.
I was selfish and my motives were screwed.
I was evil and I eventually pleaded guilty.
I wasn't ready to run around in circles.
I was cornered and my days numbered.
I had been cheap and this was its ramification:
3 days left to breathe,
and the world too far away from me,
to hear what I have to say.
That I am sorry.
So I scream out loud,
with a message tonight.
I'm anxious and death seems to beckon me louder.
I'm trapped in its voice, it's loud
so I have to scream louder.
I have to overcome my limits once more.
and I silently hope someone somewhere will hear my unwelcome scream,
even if it is just its whisper.
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