A criminal of misfortune

I met a man today,
Though he was behind a glass wall.
He stared at me with cold, dead eyes,
And sat in complete silence.

I visited again,
This time he spoke,
He spoke of mistreatment and of death,
And fell silent once again.

I came back once again,
Though I don’t know why,
But at least this time,
The man as emotions in his eyes.

Sadness and guilt,
Longing and nostalgia.
This man who days from now would die,
Had just found hope.

I visited again,
Thursday as usual,
And spoke of the man’s crimes.
He broke down and left as a huge weeping mess.

Two weeks have passed,
And I see him again,
This time he speaks by himself,
As I sit and listen.

He says two were on accident,
The other was revenge,
And instead of feeling sorry for them,
It’s for him instead.

I beg and beg,
To get his sentence reduced,
“Don’t kill him!” I scream,
But it’s of no use.

I know the time is soon,
But please a little longer.
I visit again on Thursday,
This time with no response.