The sentence came down hard, like fire on ice.
The judge stood her ground, and pulled out a knife.
While I might plead my case, I couldn't find the heart to fight.
I knew I was wrong, even if I was right.
My lawyer turned around, a blank look on his face.
Said I could file an insanity plea, and I might win anyways.
I ignored this notion, and made it clear to him so.
As I pulled out a pen, and began to write down my goodbyes.
I betroth my possessions to the bums on the street, lay them out and let them take what they please.
I betroth my friendship to those who would receive it, I need not mention who they might be.
I betroth my feelings to those who I've known the longest, and who do truly know me, they are the support I have relied upon in my times of need.
As for my last wish, I ask only this. That the judge take my life with understanding of why I did what I did. Why it was I tried so hard to do what was wrong. Why I would not accept the insanity plea. Why I leave this world so willingly.
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