A man wakes up in hand cuffs,
"tough luck bud,"
"but I..." -
"enough son...
"what have I done?"
"shut up!"
"dont I get one..."
"ha, tell it to the judge."
"what happened?"... drunken anger aided his conscienceless fists
insisting rage had led to this, clenched palms foreseeing a deathwish
red visions of which had shadowed his sight to fights judgement
resenting his situation, disgraced in his incasement of wet cement
torment present, hardening his heart to calloused scars of violence
malevolence scent tasted in the air, fairness said nothing, again...
"why me?"... questions lingered in his laments of oppression
a siloute of darkness danced across a backdrop of innocents
poverty played off-broadway, day after day with no audience
applause only heard by gunshots, sirens, and screaming citizens.
karate had become an outlet, meant to deffend his self purpose
reclaiming what was taken from each back break of worthlessness.
"how come?"... he couldnt defend the intent of killing himself or another
mother asked questions, while he basked in fantasy summers of wonder
other people didnt see the evil veiled in the sunset of every day's blunders
and she agreed beauty was skin deep, never even caring to peak under.
he said he loved her. she knew it wasn't true, but who else would care
for her heart was barren, and even a wasteland was better than thin air...
"Court is now is session"
"Where were"...police, who heard the screams from the apartment window
fearing the worst knowing this wasnt the first burst of visible acts of sorrow
from growing up painting fight's art of karate, to becoming a trained killer
to breaking trust's pillar, not knowing the difference in knowledge's power.
his hate escalated, self destruction imploaded and love became a stranger
only at home, pro pain ignites the fine line fused between abuse and anger.
the government couldnt lock him away, justice woke up dazed, in dismay
lawyers pleaded the insanity of humanity claiming society wasnt his liability.
reason's jury didnt find him guilty, and let him scour in lifes filthy wilderness
his fists hit the jackpot, never stopping, he dealt undeserved hurt handedly
and its convieced, she's still able to heal to this day
and its decieved, he'll still love her... another day
and its believed, she still bleeds in vain each day
and its percieved, he still lives free... to this day.
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