the judge asks
me how i plead
but long after
they have all
judged me

how do you plead

pleading is not
something i do,
your honor, but
yes i did rip his
heart out of his
chest

to which the judge
replies

****** is a crime
what is your defense

i could lie
i could have lied
i could have

sometimes ******
is charity, your horror

he didn't need
that heart

(he doesn't believe in
love anyway)

-

i am a prison
i built myself
and i wash my
hands but the
blood
never comes off,
and they cake
under my nails
to grow a secret
garden of nothing
but weeds;
the scent of ******
stays, like the smell
of cigarettes that
burrow and makes
its home inside
noses when
you've been
smoking
for much
too long

the greatest
crime:
i was
suspect,
and i was
victim;

we are judge
and jury
and jail