I write it
all out
like a
last will and testament,
thinking
none of it will matter
after the
owners fire me on Tuesday,
as I think
they will,
every
little detail I recall,
from the
first text to the last,
including
the threats and the conversation
my former
temporary boss
since he
is the reason
I’ve confessed,
Even if he
says he’s deny it
If I do
A whole
weekend to compile it all
Before I
confront Pilate
My journals,
my poems
My dirty
little secrets
My world crashing
Around me,
Where the
truth lies,
Only Sgt.
Friday can say
I try to
stick to the facts
When the
court
Is stacked
against me,
And throwing
myself
On its
mercy
Only gets
me crucified
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