Judgement
"I swear, it was true,
In that moment, it all felt real.
I needed nothing more than her,
Just her by my side, and I'd have everything I'd ever wished for!
I plead guilty of having loved, again.
I am guilty yes, but please have mercy on me."
"...I have nothing more to say, thank you",
He added hastily after a pause.
Today, we have a new case.
He pleaded with folded hands,
His face bowed down slightly,
A single tear rolling down his cheek.
On his knees by the aisle,
He was at the Court of the Damned
Where the guilty are brought to justice
Where fate puts forth her judgement.
Before him stood large, tall figures
Darker than shadows, too gigantic to be seen all at once,
Their faces obscured by distance, hidden in sheer height -
The Judges.
This wasn't his first time in this court.
He's been here before, and,
Between you and me,
He's going to be visiting us again.
Just then, the air warped. A vision.
Seated on one of the long wooden benches meant for the selected public,
It felt like the a whole tsunami smacked my face, transporting me entirely
And in an instant, it was gone.
I opened my eyes - a pair not mine
I look down
In my hands, I'm holding a heart.
A live, pumping, bleeding worn out heart
It convulses, warm and sticky
Blood trickles down my fingers
Deep wounds, almost like it's been burnt multiple times.
And then, the sadness hits.
It seeps into me, almost like I'm feeling, all at once,
All that the heart's gone through in its lifetime.
I buckle, breathing heavily -
Yearning. Regret. Passion. Gut wrenching pain.
The feeling of wanting to undo everything
Trapped. I have so much to give but I just can't!
Why do I do this, she didn't have to go through this
I should've just stayed away, why did I intervene!
I'm starting to like it here - NO - I can't!
I can't get closer
I must retreat. I'm sorry!
Guilt hits. Blackout guilt.
Crushing Regret. Forcing the wind out of my lungs.
I hate myself.
Oh, I wish this didn't happen. I wish I didn't exist -
The air warps again
And I'm back, hugging myself tightly
Fetal position, on my bench
The tears don't even flow.
A voice, without gender or form, rings in my ears -
The voice of judgement.
"So, how would you like to see him punished?"
We cast our votes.
He's let go. He's suffered enough.
Forgiven.