I don’t understand
But at the same time
I see why this happens
To people like me
Issued out by people
Claim to be lawful
Could be the same
As me
Sadly I will never know
Staring at bars
Black as death
Make me wish for it
To come sooner
Redemption?
America has to import that
It’s not grown here
Reparation though
That’s in a surplus
Yearly grown with no GMO’s
Picked fresh
But it’s purpose is to end
By satisfying something else
Am I a vegetable?
Picked fresh for the day
When I bring satisfaction
To “pay” for my crimes
If only they could see
I am more than my mistakes
I am more than indulgent choices
I am doomed
Yet the one to point fingers at
Fled long ago
Now I’m here…
…at least the chair is somewhat comfy.