A Victim's Rage

6 Comments

A Victim's Rage

The cries of innocence
-unheard?
Vicious cycle
turned inward;
a mirage of self-defeat.
Taken from
a child's embrace;
Damn this soul,
ignorance can't excuse,
blind to the existence-
darkness ensued.
The clock's hand
turns with a hammer's beat;
how my heart entreats:
stop this solitude,
induced pain;
endless nights
filled with tears in vain:
for this dream
always ends the same.
Whispers carried
upon the wind,
"must stop him!
must kill him!"
Unsheathe the blade-
Heaven forgive,
the hatred looms
my soul enshrouds.
With one quick slash,
death much to quick,
to atone-
to repay;
his death is little
for him to pay.
Rip his heart out,
destroy his mind-
erase this blacked soul.
Eternity
to burn and purge,
a heart of evil-
a hearth so cold.
But tell me-
can my sin be forgiven?

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dumplin commented on A Victim's Rage

11-06-2009

'death much to quick' did you mean 'too quick'? I refuse to commit the sin that would be justified in my situation because two wrongs don't make a right in my opinion. I would be honored if you'd read my latest poem. I wrote it to my mother. It's called "Unforgivable..." You will then know that I know from whence you came.

Savant commented on A Victim's Rage

11-02-2009

Great description of the inevitable satisfaction a victim might need. I see rage but it looks adolescent. It is calm, quiet, and to the point. It is not a spectacle as some adults might make it. You know, brains splattered on a wall and all. Sigh, vengeance.

Rygar commented on A Victim's Rage

10-30-2009

wonderfully written and very descriptive without being to wordy, i liked it a lot, great job blue!

rougepriest commented on A Victim's Rage

10-30-2009

yes, yes it can, four or so hail marys and a good bottle of scotch! should do it .......loved this poem!

Mareann commented on A Victim's Rage

10-27-2009

How anyone can bring harm to child is beyond reasoning. But it's happens more and more each day. I ask God, many times in my life, how does he forgive this person. I just half to believe he has good reasons for this as he does for everything else in life. Thank you for this powerful poem, well written, Mareann

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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