The truth shall set you free they say
Free from what I ask?
Confess! Confess!! they shout with great vox
Let dead dogs lie dead, I scream back
Sneering faces bid you a clean breast to make
And I complain that their forgiveness is but fake
I am not dead and yet prepared for me is a pyre
Cursed with epilepsy, my child’s demise and godly ire
What difference will a confession make?
When it will not quench the flames of a burning stake