Witnessing

I wish I had one chance to sit down with the state and speak to my prosecutor without anger, rage, or hate.

I did give them the chance to tell their side

and offer them a piece of cheese with their wine.

Do you hear yourself? This is tragic.

You’ve wasted millions of tax payers dollars to lock up addicts.

Fifteen-year minimum. Does that seem fair?

Let’s talk about this. Let’s clear the air.

So my mom is in the free world trying to be my voice,

raising my son cause I ain’t got no choice.

Poor, pathetic inmate. Scum of the earth.

You don’t have a heart. You don’t hurt.

Never mind that I was intelligent, educated, a mother, sister, wife, a daughter, and have no criminal cases.

My judge wasn’t allowed to sentence me on an individual basis.

You give out a one-size-fits-all punishment.

No one cares about all that.

Opiate addiction is on the rise. Yeah, that’s real.

Hold up unless you turn state, you can work out a deal.

You won’t? You can’t? Oh, that’s too bad.

The prosecutor says three years is what you could’ve had.

Lets weigh that at three years.

I’m going to leave you with this last thought:

What have you done for which you haven’t been caught?

When you lay down at night and try to sleep I pray my fifteen years haunts all your dreams.

I will be okay and I’ll come out stronger, with dignity and integrity.

-Jen Lockwood