Can you hear the Jury grumbling as they take their seats?
The Judge cracks open the session with his bulletined order of events.
Like a tombstone of structured emotion, the prosecution states their case with a cackle of arrogance and bitter assumption.
“We are defending “the liberty of love” beckons the defence, but the patronising scoffs of despair and horror are normalised in this world of systematic tabling.
But I….feel nice here.
In my pot of soil.
On my patch of mud.
Withdrawn from production line patriotism,
And isolated from the sounds of their rules,
This pot gives me plenty of space to run,
I can feel its walls, but I can see freedom in the darkness.
And the silence echoes with a special…
“Thump, Thump”. Order! Order!
This striking sound of ‘justice’ deafens my minds(s).
One fails to recuperate such tranquil thoughts with the murmurs of an enlightened mob above them.
I do not infringe upon others movements,
The thought of asserting my morality gives me no amusement.
I have not relinquished my citizenship for a hovel of an existence.
But simply rekindled my sovereignty so that I could have independence.
I can hear the defendant interrogated and accused of a love based on guilt.
As if the prosecutor understands.. ,
Oh what castle of lies they have all built!
You see, in these worlds, grands delusions reign supreme.
Call whatever Witness to the stand.
They will testify to their own hypocrisy.
Offering perceptions born out of the fog and mist.
But in my dwelling, I provide no blurred convictions.
The love I hold, is not hollow but honest.
I am not swayed by unrelenting passions.
No bleakness can consume me,
because I have freed myself from my own harsh reality.
However, it seems that sentences must be carried out.
Children must be punished.
And yes, we must learn from our mistakes.
People need to have regrets,
and so we must control our own heartbreaks.
Though I live for the eternal, I can not forsake my liberty.
For my truth is powerful because it can shift.
It sustains my wriggle room in a life that constricts.
So when the jury makes their call, I will cackle in my chair.
For the courts can’t influence me, and their verdict is insincere.