Innocence rides by on a cargo train,
Without a glance back through the heavy rain.
At the one false convicted of the real crime,
With its work and task it has not the time.
The accused waits with hope at their side,
But the last of hope has been vainly tried.
It hitches a ride with ego and pride,
And the condemned is left to tremble and hide.
Doubt hears of it and comes riding by,
To inflict its purpose in those who can't deny.
It eases its way into the heart and soul,
Until the sentenced must accept their impending role.
The last thought before the imprisoned has died,
Is that the world holds no pity for those who've tried,
And failed to make the will of innocence abide.
By the time innocence has really complied,
The punished has gone to the world's better side.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem