Innocent

January 11, 2008
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In a room I sit, handcuffed to a chair.
Morbid thoughts and feelings, linger in the air.
My mind wanders to just, who might have sat here last.
A lonely man or woman, forced to face their past?
This question brings me, to problems of my own.
For I too will be led to that ungodly throne.
Agony and torment no doubt await me there.
But for now I’m only waiting, waiting handcuffed to a chair.
For one awaiting death, I’m feeling quite all right.
Though I wish that I could say, “I won’t go down with out a fight.”
My battles, they were already fought.
Though on the winning team, I was not.
Others might be whining or complaining, “It’s not fair,”
But me I’m only thinking, while handcuffed to a chair.
Oh! Here they come. I am at the end,
Of all of life’s twists, and turns and bends.
I bow my head in prayer, but it’s too late to repent.
They lead me to the chair,
Well at least I know I’m innocent.





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