Live on the earth? Who put me here? Was it the universe, God, or was it something unknown? If I was put here by the universe can the universe tell me why it put me here? I can give you reasons why God would have put me here, can you universe give me any reasons? God put me on the earth because he loves me. Universe have you ever loved anyone? God gave us his only begotten son and let him suffer immeasurable pain so no other human being would be without God. Hey universe do you have a son like God's son? Would you let him suffer on a cross for us human beings? I have not touched or seen God or the universe. I have felt God's love and it is real. Universe I have not felt your love? Do you exist universe? If you do show me! God has put the fire of love in my heart, I do know he exist! Readers think about it hard, have you ever felt the universe or was that just God trying to tell you something?

The look on my mother's face. Of all the terrible things that have happened, that's the worst. Do you know what it feels like for the person that gave birth to you, raised you, kissed your boo-boos and celebrated your accomplishments to look at you like that? For the woman who loved you unconditionally for 23 years to look at you like you are a stranger. Worse than a stranger. A strange piece of filth clinging to her shoes. That your own mother could believe you hurt those little girls? As I sit here, I can't think of anything else.

The crime doesn't matter. Not really. Not to me. What they say I did has absolutely no impact on the situation I'm in. I'm going to die, by electric chair, and I'm innocent. I know, I know; most every prisoner says they're innocent. Hell, some probably even are. I know I am. The only crime I'm guilty of is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That doesn't matter to me anymore either. During the trial I fought vehemently against the allegations. I was innocent God Damnit! Now though, as I sit in my cell waiting for the final walk, it doesn't matter. If a judge burst into my cell right now wearing nothing but a sparkly speedo and nipple tassels, and handed me a pardon granted by the Dalai Lama himself written on baby seal fur, my life would still be over. Because of my mom. That look doesn't ever go away. The second the judge banged his gavel and barked out, "guilty," my life was over.

What kind of life is there for a person convicted of a crime so heinous? I try to imagine sitting down to thanksgiving dinner. no one looks at me unless I speak directly to them. Even then its awkward and quick. "He was convicted," is on everyone's mind but never makes it to their lips. their smiles never quite reaching their eyes. No, once you've been convicted, there is no going back. No normal life.

It's funny, as I sit in this chair with my arms and legs strapped down, a conductive helmet strapped on my head; I thought my life would flash before my eyes. That's what always happens on the TV. Some sort of collage or montage. In subdued sepia tones I would see my first steps, my first words, my first day of school, my first kiss, the time we drove all night to get a look at the Aurora Borealis. None of that happened. No slideshow of my time here on earth. As my jailer grabbed the switch the only thing that passed before my eyes, burning into my retinas, was my mother's face. Tears slide down my cheeks. I died thirteen years ago when i was convicted. My body is just catching up.

Was it really just

the wrong time and place?

If so then I must

believe the disgrace;

justice serves capricious fate.

Or worse, sinister

designs did snare me,

and their minister

still wanders free;

I a scapegoat to pay his fees.

The red mist beckons

but obscures my sight.

The judgment reckons

no longer my plight.

Second murder ends tonight.

If I could I would like to sit with Buddha under his tree

Ask him to make a better person of me

See I follow his paths and I fail badly

This affects my heart sadly

I am honest and I seek justness

This makes me tough and I have little forgiveness

He teaches one must give love to all and turn the other cheek

But I see this as being nothing but weak

I would ask him how he can except when someone has done him wrong

Why is it better to be a carpet and daily walked upon?

In my life I have found if you let people disrespect you time and time again

They learn nothing and it only causes you constant pain

So this is what I would ask then we´d share a bowl of rice

Sit peacefully get the cramps and fidget once or twice!

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