Instrument of death, unspeakable horror. Holder of chaos hidden from the world.
No words of regret, no words for my stolen life, not even a word of thanks in my helplessness.
Blackened heart, lump of coal, burning with the fire of greed. You help yourself to what is not yours, my heart, my organs, my engines of my ripped, crushed life.
Here is my paladin, my warrior in defense of my memory. His valor a matched for your marauding hordes. His love a match for your soul barren hate.
I was the least, he treated me like the most. I was the least, you crushed me. Your poverty of heart, of spirit, is the harbinger of death and decay.
Your stinking influence, your stench, hangs like a pall pressing down against all the hopes of the future, dismantling the future. Your stench spreading hate, fear, and violence into the world.
6 comments:
Wow. Thanks says it very well. Thanks, Annie!
Thank you, Sue. I am righteously angry about quite a lot these days. Seems like protest poetry is here to stay for a while.
Touched my soul with these words...justice where there is none is what we need! Wishing you well!
wow I can feel the emotion. The world is a crazy place anymore - hope it wakes up soon.
I feel your pain. I've been to the edge of despair too often in recent times.
hatred is a most powerful emotion, you resonate its darkness so well throughtout this poem
thanks Anne for dropping in and linking to my Monday WRites
much love...
Post a Comment