Accused

A flow of contradiction, not so much the cause of anguish. The lack of reason, eating through bones like a chainsaw is to wood. The accused, pleads innocence. But the judges persecute, based on hearsay. Repeating the ill actions of yesterday brings no good. But yet, it is repeated, with more rigor than a tape recorder. Neither point nor impact driven beyond the ear. The anguish is the product.
No longer had, the feeling of belonging slips away from an already slippery hand. No longer wishing to return, this once heavenly place is now nothing more than what a hotel is to a traveller. A place merely to rest for the night and to leave in the morning.
But despite it all, a defense is never made. Instead a weak submission is brought forward. With nothing more than a whimper, a charge becomes the truth. A false truth. There is no point in defending for if it is made, dreams will be crushed, hope will be lost, ridicule awaiting.
To leave or to stay? To love or to be hated? To be accused or to be exonerated? Only time will tell.