a witch's brew

several tons

little ones

dead because

a madman draws

his own conclusion

to his revolution

blood in our street

amid rubble and concrete

utter mayhem

that a.m.

his government hate

executed 168


his khakis pressed and clean

silence looms

inside witness rooms

he goes to sleep

as the drugs seep

into his vein

escaping pain

so far

au revoir

no mayhem

that a.m.

justice done

executed one

Copyright 2001 by Mari

Did you like this poem? If so, maybe you will like this one as well!