Serial Killer VII: Solitary

They put me in a cell by myself today
Apparently they frown
On killing cellmates
There is no window
Only a small slot
Through which they place meals
And “fan mail”
These “fans” make me sick
Talking about things like
“I wish I had the guts
To do what you had done
To my cheating boyfriend”
When I write back with
“You have the guts, meatling,
You merely have to slice yourself open
To see them”
They stop writing back
I know my mail is being read
Checked to see
If I am plotting something
But there is nothing to plot
In this six-by-eight cell
I am now taken to court
In both arm and leg shackles
With four armed guards
Taking me back and forth
My lawyer is nervous
I can tell
He leans away from me
He turns white
As each photo is shown
I reluctantly agreed
To an insanity defense
Though I clearly am not insane
My thoughts, my actions
Written in this journal
Should alone prove my sanity
I smile
As I pat the spiral notebook before me
Once this is read
They will see the true me
Once this is read
I will surely be a free woman