Thursday, December 27, 2012

Chro: Dec 27, 2008

I dislike smoking cigarettes when they burn through and approach the filter. You could say that I have a problem with smoking butts, but that wouldn't be entirely true. To prove a point, here's something that starts with another "but", but this time, it is just a conjunction. Now "it" is not a conjunction, as we all know, but just an article of convenience.

But I wasn't the judge, the jury, nor the executioner.
I was just the public, watching a trial
With a case, but without the defendant, nor that side of the story
And after the verdict is out, I feel guilty

But I always knew, things would turn out this way
And when I did warn once, I got burned (much more than how you feel when you smoke a near-dead nicotine stick)
So, when the time came to warn again, I stood silent
For that inaction, after the verdict is out, I feel guilty

I watched you take that long plunge without the rope
And, bereft of hope, I did pray for thine anguish to end soon
For sure, I'm glad my prayers came true
And for that iota of happiness, I feel guilty, after the verdict is out
For there was a case, but there was no defendant, in the end.

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