Wrongdone

I often curse myself for being me, like despite everything i could have been something else, a wave of river washed away, a piece of wood that got burnt someday, lest I won’t be me, but I am, born of a sparrow in the food chain but the mindset of rogue ant-eater, though I still plead for the wrongdone that was never done unless I’ve been puppeteered.

I plead for Mercy
As I stand in my annihilated jersey
As it depicts the facts
But the facts been manipulated
To suit the burnt grass
The breeze been subdued
for my trial’s still due
I want to win but I might lose
So I plead for mercy
As I inhabit the edge of my grave
And I will occupy the witness stand one day

-A.D