The Silence

Silence.
The sound of water. Dripping-
like Chinese torture She waits to hear something. Anything
Nothing.
To subside the pain
that forces her down
until her knees bleed. The clicking
yells, cries, the smell of piss
Become a blanket of normal.
The silence. A toilet
cold as ice glued to a sink
only one foot away
a bed a slab of concrete. A thin mat
one blanket. No pillow.
A piece of splintered wood. No windows
constant light. The sound
cars driving through puddles
keys and voices it's time to go.
She's nervous, innocent, scared but
won't say. She is too strong.
Too proud but it's not her fault.
Shackled.Like her ancestors.
Memories.Pain.Anger
Surface.A single tear drops
302 months doesn't sound that bad 
until you convert it to years
and it's over. That quick
chatter of the Superbowl. the
court reporter drops her head with tired eyes
wasn't the first life they took that day.
At that moment the judge was
the devil, the smell of death.
The respected honorable
laughed while her family-
watched from the pews of desperation
every inch of hope
ripped from their souls
Her only though.
That bitch Karma
sway around all present while they slept
with their families.
Living a double life
killer by day family man by night.
Not the only life they toyed with that day.