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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Homemade dungeons spirit up through governmental finance. An alone home to the flight risk, trial sick, authoritative kind. So much time now spent hitting the rewind to come upon the never wanted find inside the attested mind. A proven confinement to so many of 21st century are designed to be low level offended and less related to all of mankind. Circumstantial evidence is assigned to take down this kind. Rights never amended, as the felonious records are drug offended. Inside the gang life is blended. Friendships are far from being mended. Instead many lives are ended. A never before scene of the wrongfully accused and had been at the criminology since the age of thirteen. There is no remedy for this no vaccine. Most are pumped up and made into a machine who love the daily clink routine. Orange jumpsuits scatter the yard. Once a slip arrives they’ll pull your card. Heated from the mentality built throughout the year. Constantly lying awake at night not knowing what to fear. Is death near? Corrupt guards take aim with fear in the name but then the high paid lawyer shifts it to a high octane gear. This will definitely give the prosecutor something to fear. The facts are straightened now it’s time to finally steer. The man in the mirror once publicly crucified humiliated inside, and tried never dabbled in that attack. Yet he still caught all of the flack. Hundreds of nights spent on the uncomfortable nightmarish rack. But here then comes the judge as the least fortunate try to resolve with the new found fact. Leaving here is all he wanted with his freedom and dignity intact. The stands were pact, the jury deliberates, not guilty, evidence not filthy, the gavel tolls, can this be all so real? This is the sound of the governmental deal trying to lay hate to determine one’s fate then to be sealed.
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