He knew that he was not the one

That dark and and dismal night

Who pulled the trigger of his gun

And ended someone’s life

The plan had gone awfully awry

He was the one they caught

No one there was meant to die

At least, that’s what he’d thought

But now he’s in a small white room

The detective is leaning in

And yelling things they must assume

Since they have the evidence

The detective grabbed onto his shame

And wrung out all his pride

They beat and held him over flames

He had nowhere he could hide

Thoughts incessantly swirling

And no way to get reprieve

He started second guessing

The things he once believed

His memory began to mold

To what they put into his head

‘Till he admitted what they had sold

“It’s because of me that man is dead”