Late last night, someone sent me a poem written in response to The Death Chair Confessions.
I’m incredibly moved and at a loss for words…
It’s just you and I in this eerie silence,
sick curiosity, slight resent.
Dare I move a little closer to you,
or sit staring with contempt.
Your posture strong yet arrogant,
and leather chains to bind.
A crown without the thorns you bare,
to place on a delirious mind.
What secrets do you hold within,
tales of evil, sorrow, regret.
Of many man who confessed their sin,
and in turn paid their debt.
How many prayed to heavens high,
forgiveness, pleas and song.
And how many prayed their innocence,
when the verdict served them wrong.
But I will not place myself upon your lap,
when you search for stories new.
For my closet bares no skeletons,
so neither friend nor foe are you.
-M.Hardy
