For Those People Amongst Us That Were Innocent

I am a child beneath their sky, A hush of stars, a lullaby— And all the world was built of song Until the night betrayed me wrong. No judge could see the soul I kept, No jury heard the way I wept, They took my name and made a stain, And left me naked and in my pain. The doors were steel, the floor was stone, The cries around me not my own. A shadow moved—then terror came, And no one dared to speak my name. That first long night they took my light, No morning ever made it right. The cell was small, the screams were loud,, Another bled to death beside. His blood, a starburst on my face, The proof that I was out of place— Too soft, too strange, too full of sun, Too innocent to hold a gun. They said, "You have your trial anew," The law made promises untrue. They signed the paper, stamped the day, Then left me there to waste away. No hand reached out, no voice replied, And so I lived as though I’d died. I said what must be said to leave— They smiled, but did not care, believe. I’m not made strong like men of war, My mind a book they won’t explore. I’m different—soft—autistic, still, And none could see my force of will. They wanted blood, or guilt, or tears, A pound of flesh, more not less, Not innocence, not broken years. Without allocution, speech, or plea, They never once looked into me. So tell me now, what must I do— With truth ignored and shadows true? I walk among you, marked and marred, With justice lost and judgment scarred. Yet still I dream of meadows wide, Of springtime rivers I could ride. For even in this ash and crust, Some roses bloom in blood and dust.