Mr. Baker lived a tough life, his father such an artist,
Taught him life is honest – Black & blue canvas until loss of conscious,
Crashing promise, spinning rims 'round beaten optics,
Vision blurred, yet his path's Plotted; Respect's a monetary profit,
He's lost it, accosted buds sprout...Product of environ-mentally caustic.
Living life cautious, The fork in the road stabbing lymph nodes of hostage,
If meager inherit, then Earth will demerit – Rapid spiral down and... parish,
Hereditary ties around the wrist are, anything but careless,
Seed's are made to cherish, In this case the corner reaps,
The canvas is carpet, Red Strokes of ease paint the easel – Carcass,
Labored breaths fade, Halo drifts away from a spirit betrayed,
A lost soul can be found, but once father and sons bond has decayed,
Then father enslaves, and Brimstone and Fire are welcome to play,
So no I don't blame Mr. Baker; for sending his father to the grave,

But the crime was vile. And the verdict is final,
Death by injection for the son,
Who sent his father to hell...
Without denial.

~Confession Accepted~