Habeas Corpus

09/06/10

I am sitting in my own interrogation room,

Guilty even after being proven innocent.

They throwing the book at me.

Telling me about Miranda

But I don’t know her.

And what does she have to do with me.

Cuffed and stuck in the back seat

Wagoned to the station in bondage

Stripping me down to my last fibers

And taking my mug shot.

My name and face will forever be kept in this dirty system

Wrist bright red and cut deep

Police brutality

I am sitting in an interrogation room,

Guilty even after being proven innocent.

I give them blank stares as they play good cop bad cop.

I’m watching Angels and Demons over my shoulders

but where is Tom Hanks when I need him.

I have been questioned, beckoned, and bartered.

Threatened and undermined with police jargon.

They keep joggin around me in circles

Hoping that I trip up and slip up what they want to hear

Hopping that I collaspe like I fell into mental relapse

And remember something I did not do.

Like I got split personalities and I can

Distinguish the two.

They want me to confess to a crime

That I have no knowledge of

Looking for a scapegoat

So they can close this case up.

Not really looking for the truth

Just looking for an ending.

Go ahead slam your hand on the table

No matter how many time you can ask

My story will be the same.

I didn’t do it!

Detective gritting his teeth

Because he has his own conclusions

Mad cause he’s budging and I aint moving.

Asking me my whereabouts, searching for motives

Thinking that getting in my face will entice me and will entitle

You to make me guilty,

For something

Still not moving.

“Pardon me. Can I please have something to drink”

I know this will give them fingerprints

but like I said I’m innocent, And thirsty.

They bring me back a cup of Folgers.

As hot as this is its making me colder

It feels like time is flying but its only seconds older.

Someone knocks on the door.

I’ve seen this on law and order.

Detectives disappears in the abyss

Leaving me in this room

Listening to the sounds of your accusations.

Why am I still here?

Still trying to maintain my composer

I adjust my hair in the mirror.

Looking into myself in still frame.

Motion pictures featuring me loosing my mind.

Bright lights, spotlight on me.

Starting to sweat a little.

Examining myself again.

I think I’m innocent,

Innocent until proven otherwise

But I’m still here.

And why is it im suppose to be set free

but freedom is still not near

Why are they taking so long outside?

What did they find?

I’ve committed no crime

And if I get convicted they better take this

Time in this room off my sentence.

Back once again to the mirror image of myself

Am I staring at innocence,

Or the face of a no good criminal and future convict.

Hell they way they laid there case out they almost got me convinced.

Got my self twisted and conflicted.

Maybe I did do it?

Maybe the schizophrenia idea wasn’t too far fetched after all

Why else am I still here?

Wait no…

I need to get out of here

no

I need a lawyer.

I need someone else to stand up for me

Because no one else believes me.

I’m starting not to believe my self.

I know I’m not on trial but my mind is running miles

Doing circles to track what is going on.

Finally they come back in the room.

Somewhat relieved but not ready for this tag team.

I’d rather be inside the ring with the WWE.

At least I know it was all acting.

To my surprise,

They only said two words to me.

“You’re free”.

Not asking any questions

Just ready to leave and get as far away possible.

I take a deep breath and walk out the door.

“That’s her! She did it!”

Looking over my shoulder

Because they couldn’t be talking to me.

They just said I was free.

Still not convinced.

They throw fits of rage and anger towards me.

Judging me before I met judy.

They’ve been watching my every move through a window.

The same window I used as a reflection to judge myself

There eyes and ears witnessed everything that I did.

Clearly it wasn’t me.

I guess that doesn’t matter to them.

What ever vendetta they were after

Has now become my problem.

Whether I wanted it or not.

No detective, no police report,

No words would ever let them believe otherwise.

No matter were I go you’ll be judging me with silent eyes.

Taking all my truths and turning them into silent lies.

Your distorted image of me will forever be painted on your retina

Shooting my mugshot right to the back of your head

To be imbedded in your mind forever.

You will see this even when the reality of it all

is presented right in front of you

I am sitting in my own interrogation room,

Guilty even after being proven innocent.