By Brandon O'Neill

Here i lie,
a convicted criminal.
Molded and fashioned to convey hate.
Shunned by mankind for the atrocities i have committed.
Yet you,
you who holds me,
have brought me to this sad reality.
I wish to speak!
but my words are written in the blood of others.
I have no say in the matter.
My hands are clean of these horrible crimes.
But you, bearer, your hands are stained with blood.
And I am the criminal!

This Poem Features In:

Browse Collections By Category

Select from our entire catalogue of poetry collections: