Found Song

A decision was made
In an apartment an hour away
No word on how
The verdict was reached
The jurist entitled to what she believes
And I am consigned to weeks of hard time
While I re-examine what’s really mine
It’s a death sentence, but I feel just fine
Guilty for sure but not of the crime.

No system in place
To make some appeal for some sort of grace,
For some sort of mercy,
But mercy’s a joke
Pray a Hail Mary, it’s all that she wrote.
You really won’t call? Won’t help me at all?
Rhetorical questions for a rhetorical wall.
Sad Cinderella skipped out on the ball,
The prince that she left just mopes in the hall.

As for self-pity, what’s more attractive?
The guy that you’re with, I’m sure he’s a bastard
I try to be strong, I wind up sarcasticAnd you’re left better alone

Hope takes time to die,
the clown said with a sigh.
Then he said it again.
The clown's been quiet since then.

What are you here for?
The nurse clutched her clipboard.
She didn't know who you were.
She thought you were a visitor.

The one who loved you most
is a girl as much as a ghost.
Your love may be alive,
but the girl who loved you died.