The sound of thousands of people shouting for my death is a feeling of which I have found comfort with. The darkness in my mind that clouds my true reason has taken a hold of me and bonded me in the darkness of which I can see no return. You whisper in one ear, telling me that things will be OK, that I have not truly fallen, that I must rise above the people outside my window shouting insults and driving mental stakes made of words through my very soul. In the other ear I hear the truth. I hear some telling me that there is no hope that I cannot see the light at the end of this tunnel because there is none. How can I listen to the soothing lies that you tell me when the truth is disturbingly close to my home front. I am sorry to tell you this but there is no going back from where I have fallen and I have given up. There is no point. There is no time and no place for me now. I shall walk my way up to that executioner's stage and watch as the world condemns an innocent man to die for a crime that they are convinced he committed.
