Words of The Lamb magazine

   The verdict has been rendered. My life will end abruptly. Many will say it wasn’t much of a life at all. But as I lay curled up in this caged enclosure, I can only express my desire to breathe free air to myself. I am alone in my confinement. No one can hear my whimpered screams. It is the sound of silence.

   Shortly, I will pay for another’s unjust decision. That person’s life will go on, relieved once I cease to exist. The world’s laws are weighed heavily against me.

   I just want to live. My sentiment rolls like a wave through my entire body. If only I can somehow communicate my desperate, innocent pleas through to my judge, perhaps by a dream, an uneasy feeling in the pit of the stomach, or a change of heart. It’s no use. Time waits for no one, and my sand is down to its last trickle in the hourglass.

   Never will I hear the pleasant chirp of nested birds, squint at the rising sun, or feel gentle rain on my skin. Never will I taste warm baked bread, laugh in joy, or savor the aroma of rosy flower petals. I am cheated of experiencing all the wonders that nature so lovingly provides.

   I can feel the nervous energy envelop me. Whispers of formalities that I barely hear, echoes through my anticipating imagination. My feeble flailing movements are in vain. It won’t be long now.

   I can make a difference in this world. All I need is a chance, a chance to live my life. My executioner is approaching. The air is rapidly waning, and my heartbeat mimics a drum roll. I lay in the fetal position. It is my only defense. The time has come. My darkness is now met by an unwelcome, piercing luminance. My executioner is ready. I am handled methodically to my brink, and my neck is contorted and then finally broken. I struggle to emote a final sentiment. I just wanted to live; I just wanted to be born.