Guilty

I am the executioner of my own exile.
For I stand in front of the crowd and proclaim myself guilty,
but my crimes come with no regret.

I have hurt more than I have been hurt.
I have loved more than I have lost.
I have wanted more than I deserve.

Still, if I could erase this moment,
I would write it in ink,
both bold and underlined.

And if this is the worst that will happen,
I would rather go left than be right.
Of mortal sin I am guilty,
and I won’t even put up a fight.