For me there may be no tommorow I live on borrowed time. Done a sentence of a life time, and commited no crime. The world in which I live was created by those without the passion to forgive. Alone many miles from home and those I love, my life has come and gone. When my eyes close at last, spread my ashes in the wind and sea. Bill Kuenzel
Reason for writing:
From an innocent man on Death Row.Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Bill Kuenzel.