Written by: Nacita Torres

The risk added excitement at the time, 
Admittedly a conscious decision was made to commit a crime.
Not yielding to ethical thought, 
Reluctant to believe that the transgression would be caught.
Self-assured I say ....weep not.

Disjoining, conviction, and separation of family,
Sustaining the ability to hold on to sanity.
Not inclined to allow the flowage to over run, 
Conceding to the occurrence; as the moon to the sun.
Ambiguously I say ...weep not.

Stepping into a cement six by six,
The grey and white walls suffocating, as my eyes become fixed.
Stretching out on a narrow bank, hands cradling my head,
Paralyzed with deep immersed reflection of pending dread.
Actuality I say ...weep not. 

Releasing feelings of being maltreated after death,
The seasonal matter has been put to rest.
A moral discretion occurred but I am still alive,
To conquer over an erroneous deviation, I thrive. 
Subsequently I say ...weep not. 

 @ Tunisia Torres