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by JosLav Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Community · #2064676
The Narrator speaks his thoughts in the midst of a misunderstanding
The boy who cried foul


I can feel them all. Glaring eyes,
Staring me down. Very sharp lines,
Touching my spine. Am I worthy?
Worthy to receive such treatment?

I know I'm clean. My conscience says.
But then again what do I know?
On a trial with no lawyers,
Tell me how I'm supposed to go.

How could they be so sure? When I,
I am just that boy who cried foul.
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