Guilty As Charged

A heart of dark sentiments! What did my dark periscope see? A misogynistic judge presiding over a case; An interesting case of A woman who reneged midway on a pact. I was but a witness lest you be curious Why I stood so still. Prior, I saw her mixing the colours of abuse; A sweetheart's leprous weapon of bitterness Enshrined in a soul bequeathed to grave. The jury conspired to lay waste of an innocent woman On account of murder. The evidence they held was red paint spilled on her white shirt. She looked down to find a word, Even one to utter in her defence. I stood stock-still to witness and testify against The life of a girl child on a crime I never saw. It was just as poets wrote and painters drew, A life of unsolicited hardships. No-one shared her plight. It was as though an artist who knew not what to write or paint Made an image and brought it to life, But cared neither to pray nor dared to fight Until it became a historian's lost note, The authenticity of which no-one dared to confirm. Her only crime was being born a woman. She could choose otherwise had she but a choice. The 'guilty' verdict came crushing on the women's doormat. They came with chains of oppression; To oppress and control! I shed my last tears for the ruined life. She sighed and made her voice ready to wail. She held her pride unshaken and uttered the very words: Because I am a woman, I plead guilty as charged.