Imprisoned behind these lines,
I begin my sentence.
A lifetime of hard labor awaits
With no reward, only obligation
To myself—the lone victim, the sole perpetrator.
This punishment fits the crime
That I haven't committed—yet
I do not appeal, I do not protest.
I deserve this
And every night—
Despite the emptiness, the pain—
I surrender with a new confession.
2 comments:
I know I said I would comment on your poems today, Chris, but it's been a long day. The kids are testing tomorrow so I'll comment then.
I really like the function of the "yet" here. It's very clever. You still enjoy writing right?
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