In the shadowed halls of justice’s keep,
Where truth and lies entwined, secrets seep,
There stands a figure, accused, in despair,
With trembling heart and burdened with care.
His eyes, once bright with life’s gleaming fire,
Now clouded by turmoil, hope’s flame expires.
For whispers and rumors cast a damning spell,
And innocence, like a fading dream, now fell.
Accused, shackled by the weight of suspicion,
He walks through life with heavy contradiction.
Judgment’s hammer looms, a specter of dread,
As doubts and fears dance with demons unsaid.
But within his core, a flicker of belief,
That truth’s radiant light shall grant him relief.
For he knows his soul bears no stain of guile,
And his spirit dances, fueled by faith’s wild.
And so he rises, with resolve forged of steel,
To face the tempest, an unyielding ordeal.
His voice, a symphony of unwavering truth,
Echoing through the chambers of doubt’s truth.
For an accused heart is not always stained,
Like an artist’s canvas, unsoiled and unclaimed.
And in the crucible of justice’s decree,
May innocence blossom, set accused souls free.
So let us not judge, but seek truth’s transforming grace,
To honor the accused, their fears to erase.
For in their journey, we find a reflection,
Of our shared humanity, bound by connection.
MARYANN BOSAH 