pre-convicted
is it a crime to live and be?
To draw breath, to feel
to be as you were born?
They call it my home
I call it my prison
and over the years it has become mine
with the shunned, deserted feel
What was my crime?
I must have had a crime to be so kept
so disdained, dare I say hated by the world
When I ask they say 'don't'
they say I am not an innocent
that I never have been
never will be
guilty, guilty
of the crime that cannot be asked or answered
the shackles of the very being
tell me the verdict, judge!
jury
tell me!
They turn and they are silent
they send me back
and say 'dangerous' and
'as if he doesn't know'
won't some one say
but they don't
they turn their heads
I am a criminal, they think
is it a crime to live?
Is it a crime
to act as one was made to act
and be as one was made to be?
and so I ask once more,
I beg, entreat, you to pause then answer
and tell me I wasn't
born guilty?