The punishment is harsh, excommunicated from society you languish wondering what you have done to own this fate.
There is no comfort, the mornings are frozen, the days long, the nights lonely bare and stark. The seasons come and go but you are trapped in a winter eternal. The guards either brutal or indifferent.
You long for your freedom in a foreign land, a place where this juristinction holds no sway.
The judge had no choice but to apply the law, he was as blameless as you. Your attorney could presage the outcome even as he knew he would never be paid, but he believed in you and was tenacious in your defence.
All you can do is travel beyond the prison walls in your imagination leaving solitary confinement behind at least for a moment in time.
Were you guilty as charged or a victim incarcerated by a monstrous mistake ?
A miscarriage, your fingerprints were all over this crime, yet had no hand in it.
As unjust as a gulag and its helpless inmates
Only you and your creator will ever know. Your life has become a volume more slender than you had hoped.
The perpetrator is still at large, and may strike again without warning, but that crime can never be levelled at you. No cobweb of conspirators can entangle you again. The banality of evil shall never prevail while your heart beats even behind high walls you cannot scale.
Your family are convinced you are innocent let no shard of doubt unsettle them.
They will greet you at dawn on the last day.
At least you will not face the death penalty … no more than any mortal.
Flynnpoetry 