I'm sorry, I whispered
in a unsettled tone-
to the silence of marble
statues empty as death.
Humanity, is lost
on the heartless.
Their costumes of
long black robes
judge me, before
I even begin
to speak.
No visitors fill
the court to
witness the trial.
Wooden benches
are too jagged
for white painted
society. Good thing
I am quite successful
at talking to
myself. As usual
it falls on tainted
deaf ears. In closing,
I announce to
the wigged out judge-
" The defense needs
a rest."
Seldom is it that
you never know
right from wrong.
My face still
still shows the
handprint of
when you tried to
slap righteousness
into me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem