The Death Sentence

June 2, 2009
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The pale light
is flickering.
He is sitting
on a mattress.

I can see the
blacks of
his eyes,
the whites—
his neon
jumpsuit.

He is bogeyman.

He's given
one last meal,
like Jesus,
but I'm wondering
why does he
deserve it?

Man of God,
is praying—
something he's
done too many
times before.
Is there really
salvation for
him?

Soon I lead
him down the
Valley of
Shadows.

I see my
guilty hands
and know
the feeling
won’t fade.

The room
is bare, save a
cot, an
intrinsic
machine,
death.

The witnesses
look on,
enjoying
the show, but
suffering
the pain
of being.

I can see the
blacks of
his eyes,
the whites.

Now the elixir
is flowing. He
is still but why
am I even stiller?

I wonder if
I can ever be
God of Man.

The coroner
comes in and
scribbles on
a pad—the word
homicide.





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Jesse A. said...
Sept. 6, 2009 at 3:04 pm
whoa very deep yet awesome loved it
 
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