Looking At The Judge

Brought into the court room, I was looked at by the crowd and the jury as a demon. To the jury I was already guilty and the judge had already figured out my sentence. The end was all but written, I was to be sent to prison to waste away until I died. I had become comfortable with this soon to be reality, I had no way to avoid it. My only crime was survival, atleast in my mind. That crime now landed me in this court room. As I sat handcuffed, staring at the judge as he read my sentence and smashed his gavel… I knew. I knew he didn’t understand my pain. I knew he didn’t understand my life. I knew he didn’t understand my fight for survival. But none of that mattered now…..I was dragged out of the court room like a pig being led to slaughter. The damage was done and the worst was yet to come. Looking at the judge I saw a person, but when looking at me I knew what he saw. He saw a criminal, a thug, another animal that he sentenced to prison time. He became so accustomed to this ritual, so much so that in that moment I felt like the divine one. I felt like the judge and in my eyes he looked like the criminal. The only difference, he had a gavel and I was the person being taken away to prison.

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