//18:08 Sixteenth poem bearing a sin, that was not committed ever.

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They call me an inexecrable wretch,
But they forget that wretches bleed blood too.
Courteous conduct is what that is demanded,
But they don't know what my impediments have long commanded.

My hands, my head, my heart,
Pay the forfeiture of my fleshy sins.
Reverend people, never reached the skies,
With their malice and ambition that was all white.

'Tis true, upright and justified ,
You may shred my bones with all your might,
But most heartedly I do beseech,
For the intent and purpose of the law, hear my plee.

Spare me from this lingering penance,
Your beloved people trapped me in it by chance.

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A sonnet again-syllabic parameters not followed, again.
A poem that accuses the court for hearing the evil
Even when it knows who's wrong.

Dedicated to the people who witness fake charges, and the court's corrupt nature.