With emotions at the breaking point and tempers running wild,
Though he said he was the victim, he was more like Satan’s child,
He was angry and so empty and confused at how he felt,
And he knew that very soon his life would melt.

For he couldn’t stand the pressure and he couldn’t stand the heat,
Though he tried to live with reason he just knew that he was beat,
So he struck at those who hurt him and the ones who caused him pain,
And the ones he loved he treated with distain.

And though many tried to help him, he just pushed them all away,
Yet if only he had listened, he would not be here today,
But it’s done and it is over and he lives within this cell,
And it’s here that he will bid his last farewell.

And he’s fighting with the demons of a life he used to lead,
And his wounded soul is bleeding, for he planted wild seed,
And he lies inside this chamber, behind bars that will not bend,
And it’s here his life is coming to an end.

They would call him ‘dead man walking’ as he ate his final meal,
And the judges wouldn’t listen as he gave his last appeal,
Now his trembling heart is pounding as he’s strapped inside this chair,
“I’m the victim and it really isn’t fair.”

For he felt his life was drowning in much ambiguity,
Now his soul will meet the future, which is called Eternity,
Where he’ll fight the many demons of a life he used to lead,
And his wounded soul will suffer, cry and bleed.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The Execution.