System Poem by Luke Gentry

I sit amongst judgement
Listening into the voices of history
I hear whispers within the aged white painted walls of a time worn court room.
The soft words of the convicted pleading for mercy.
The taste of freedom eluding the mouth of law.
Execution swaying on the beams of balance from a frayed rope
I've arrived at the throes of death
And must saddle my transgressions
Revise myself from error
And face my wrongs with dignity
That I might find where the grass is greener and conquer the voices of history
So that mine is heard beyond the white painted walls