It's happening right now.
Sitting on the side of his bed, counting the minutes.
Five hours, eleven minutes left.
He sits smoking a cigarette, wearing only his underwear; there is no place to go.
Twelve years five months and nine days he has been waiting.
He remembers the last time he was free, now it’s just a distant memory.
He runs his hand over his face, wiping away the sweat.
His meal arrives; he eats slowly savoring every bite.
Soon he will leave this place to be strapped in tightly.
Twelve years five months and nine days ago, he heard the words “guilty” Of murdering a sixteen-year-old girl.
He has wondered many times what has led me here?
He has suffered torments no man could possibly imagine, confined in this six foot by eight-foot cell, and day after day has passed, each day bringing him closer to death.
He prays for the impossible, his sentenced commuted, to no avail.
Five hours and nine minutes left till he will be given lethal injection, his heart will stop and he will be pronounced dead, the sentence carried out.
Inside he screams,
You see this man is an innocent man, a good man that never committed any crime, Unjustly he was accused and unjustly tried and found guilty,
Soon it will all be over, he counts the minutes and soon an innocent man will be put to death.