Standing on trial where the jury is judged.
Society by applause with a cause to conviction.
Vile in my veins, venom is holding the grudge.
Sentenced to death by my mind written predictions.
What is wrongly incorrect is my path by which i gain my respect.
Sand is spilling through the cracks in the glass.
Aging by the minute, i am timed by the midnight hour.
Rope in my hand to be noosed to my gun.
What is the end should never have begun.
My thoughts will be set free infront of a burning cross.
A thousand nails are useless when the hammer is lost.
Asking forgiveness, i will bleed in my grave.
Slave by day and caged to my rage.
I have to be brave.
I will never be saved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem