21700
I stand accused
of guilt not mine
I’ve scrubbed my hands clean
stripped raw they bleed
and still they stink
of wickedness they said I’ve done
b u t
I don’t remember
doing such things
I don’t remember
being the one
I’ve survived
I’ve been tried
so why
am I
being sacrificed . ?
I’m laid
upon their altar
and made to confess sins
I h a v e n o t d o n e
this parade a masquerade
of karma and contempt
c a m o u f l a g e d . .
a kaleidoscopic collage
of arrant hypocrisy
disguised as righteousness
running wild
like pack dogs
running wild
like fickle gods
a n d I w o n d e r
what did it take
to be a snake
i n t h e g a r d e n . . ?
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