There are no guilty men in gaol,
to comprehend what they go through:
they are misunderstood; we fail
to see them as like me and you.
We can’t imagine why they strayed,
they say, I quote, ‘Not me at all.’
Don’t own the error of their ways,
to them we live in cloudy pall.
These innocents have done no wrong,
they give reasons for all they did.
We others sing another song.
They want to show they did no wrong.
Polly Stretton © 2014