Poetry & Fiction · · 1 min read

96 Pages

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Forgive me your honor 
I was hoping you might look me 
in the eye and deem my faith 
          good
might see that I wasn’t always 
the chosen son but ended up 
righteous somehow at the helm
of this empire. I swear I’m not sure

how it happened 
this leads to that and really 
your honor I just did what he said 
the only child to attend 
his fifth wedding. Oh god

oh your honor 
I thought you might 
understand all this 
might see how heavy 
the weight / how intense 
the pressure / might shrug 
at the truth bent 
like so many people do 

because listen: 
I was shaped at the feet 
of the kingpin and who can 
blame me for wanting 
to sit on the throne? 

Mr. Gorman
your 96 pages have damned me 
when that crown falls
to a life spent lonelier,
siloed as a traitor to the bloodline

tail tucked 
bluff called 
cards turned up.