The words hung like dust in the air
From cracked lips and taunt face
Eyes that burned with the fire
Ignited by raw hopelessness
"I can't"
The clerk wrote with a smirk
Satisfaction written all the more clearly
As the end drifted into the sight
Of every single occupant
"I can't"
The jury heard
Each one visibly relaxing in their seat
Glad to leave a room that stunk
Of bloody murder and bloodier conviction
"I can't"
The judge repeated
Too sick to say it again
And with a swing of his gavel
Convicted the speaker of those words
"I can't"
That one broken man said
With every ounce of strength
That was left in his chest
His torn and tattered heart
"I can't"
His soul burned and convulsed
As those final words
Sought to fight there way
Into the dusty empty court
"But come heaven or hell
I will try"
And with an air of sweet release
His worn and weary suit
Gave way to sprouting wings
Which sprung from this mans back
and gave him passage to the sky.
Leaving a room full of empty people
and empty jurisdiction
Who fought and squabbled into the night
About how justice had not been served.
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