They chastise me with words of pain.
I refuse to cringe into nothingness.
My innocence stripped again and again.
Engulfed in the feeling of emptiness.
They don't want to hear the truth.
I have become their scapegoat.
Distorted versions dwell in the booth;
With those who will sit and gloat.
Sometimes oblivion comes over me,
Offering me languished for relief.
Despondency surrounds any remedy,
As I listen on in disbelief.
My accusers seem to be so sure;
To the ones who will decree
The fatal decision, I must endure.
Disparity of justice is gone from me.
My freedom seems so far away,
As the tormentor comes to tread me down.
Uncertainly surrounds me everyday.
For chosen I am, to embrace death's crown.
Copyright Ó 2001 Wanda Lyn Carr