Untitled

Cherry blossom
Pressed into the palm of my hand
By a charming gentleman.
A present, you may say,
He said
Innocence for the innocent.

But what he did not know
Was it burned my palm
Like acid on metal.
Proof in my hand,
The guilty can not claim innocence.

Guilty of loving.
Guilty of hating.
Guilty of prejudice.
Guilty of greed.
Guilty of everything
And yet nothing.
Guilty.

I did not scream.
I did not throw it farther than far.
I held it.
I held it for that gentleman.
I held it for me.
I held it for the hope
That one day
It won't hurt so much
And one day
It won't hurt at all.