An old man sits in a cell
Dying in disgrace
The sins of his past caught up
So he waits for his mind and body to rot
There are no amends to be made
The blood has dried
The families have been broken
And yet he remains
His concrete room encloses him
Protecting him from the outside
The hate he sewed
simmers in the faces of them all
There is nothing to say
There is nothing to do
There is nothing to reach for
So why does he sit
Peering at the moon
Never again to be seen unobstructed
Perhaps his last scrap of dignity sustains him
Keeps him from ending it all
He’ll only ever leave the cage in a bag
Thrown to the rubbish
Albeit an elevated status
Would anyone mourn when they find him listing to and fro
Would they frown at the corpse
Would they wish him life so that he might suffer in isolation
Till every last drop of his sanity ran out
Perhaps the best option is to wait
Let his crimes become him
Face the sunlight
To dry and crack like an autumnal leaf

~Galwyn

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