Monday, January 19, 2015

Justice by Matthew Ciaramitaro

Heavy is the soul of the man with the gavel.
Heavy is the weight of the sins he’s committed.
He would himself to hell just to feel whole.
And justly so for what he’s permitted.

Rocking back and forth in cell,
A man looks to escape from hell.
Innocent he is (in most ways),
but burning he has been for days.

Oh so heavy his shackles are
And so much regret he feels.
Blackened not is his heart.
At the altar he readily kneels.

His sentence was death
For resisting arrest,
From an officer of the law
That eagerly broke his jaw.

But the humility of the other.
To endure so much in duty to his city.
Each day he feels he locked up his brother
Then he goes home, and eats away his pity.

The innocent starves, awaiting the end.
He had so much to live for and so much to defend.
He has to die for fighting back
Against a racist cop that saw he was black.

The judge regrets greatly,
Those sent to death row.
Those men that were white and wealthy,
And the officers in prison that he knows.

The man looks at the rope.
The judge smiles with hope.
He got that guilty dope,
He chuckles a bit as he watches the man choke.

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