Walking home from the train station at night,
I saw a man bashing a young girl,
She was screaming for help.
I picked up a brick from someone’s garden,
and smashed it over his head.
He fell to the ground.
The girl started screaming and ran away.
I stood there listening to this person cough.
This is the hand that slapped him in the face,
I was not going to let him rise.
This is the hand that has the will to punish.
These are the hands that prayed for his life,
These are the hands that wiped the blood off his cheek.
I sat in the gutter staring at the dead body.
I discovered something as old as human kind.
The will, and the need to punish.
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Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: June 25th, 2024 00:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments3
Good write David.
There is forgiveness, we know. Yet what about situations like these?
And who could deny punishments for war criminals? They took life, so their life was taken from them.
Thank you that's an enlighten view of a difficult situation.Thanks for commenting
Mussolini had a ghastly end, I read. We can reply 'Couldn't have happened to a more suitable person'.
Meanwhile - people use their hands to put over their ears, when I begin to sing! lol.
There are different kinds of punishment.
Now my next poem - Why... must I sing and punish everyone by doing so?! lol.
I brick in the head sounds a bit psychopathic.
Go ask the Girl who is alive and well if she sorry how it turned our.
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