Death Penalty

The chains on my hands have cried for years.Wishing they could be unlocked like the others,outside running free like the others.These chains rub against the cold dark floor,dreading the horror routine.The horror routine of, being paralyzed by another's crime.The key to my locked chains, roam freely around this prison.But, my chains have pleaded guilty, even when they were innocent.Soon, my chains will be unlocked. They will not be able to run like the others. They will rest peacefully, with those that have been unlocked in history. 

This poem is about: 
Our world
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