Still waters conceal Slanders, accusations, the Bodies of the dead
Again and again I scream, all you hear is the Cry of desolation
I ask my fellow Prisoners if they know the Nature of my crime They shake their heads so Solemnly, avert their gaze, Each and every
1. Spoke with a pathologist at a conference, during her training at the medical examiner’s office, they were doing an autopsy on a body that
Beneath the gold are Disquieting dark pictures Lost so long ago.
If there was a time When I called you mine, why can I not remember?