If I were on trial; for trusting a few,
Conviction, would be, a certainty.
Pity, from the gallery, long over-due;
Assurances, from the con artist, fictional.
Gathering strength; from a shocking defeat,
Tricks and treachery, where practiced by a fool.
The blunder; was mine for trusting a cheat,
Innocently apprehended, by a preschooler.
But, I will not be contained, for long,
Because my soul has the substance to trust;
one more time; sceptically, distinguishing the wrong,
Learning, that debating with liars, only brings disgust.
I will not accept a sentence of death; for a renegade’s commendation;
Instead, I accept the challenge of vindication.
– L.J. Lenehan –