By conservative estimates, there are currently enough wrongfully convicted people in prison in the United States to fill a football stadium.
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It’s right here, in the darkness.
Stretch out your hands and stroke it.
Pet it, feel its soft form, strain
Your eyes and you can swear to yourself
That you see it.
It’s here, its curves are its rhythm.
Its darkness is its light. Fall into it
And feel how it sounds: see how it feels.
It is as true as your very blindness, the
Controlled chaos of your closed eyelids.
It is true. It changes, right before your
It wraps itself around yourself; yourself around
Itself — a hypnotist’s swirl of unending size.
As big as the darkness it blends with,
Becomes one with, that swallows you up and
Reach out, strain your eyes; it is present.