…To The Cowardly Murderer
One wonders how you warped,
…Like wood left to the rain,
Becomes so twisted in its path
…No one with half a brain
Would think it was of any use;
…Would think that it was fit
(Like gnarled knots of nothingness)
…For naught but fiery pit.
One wonders how the blackened mold
…Spread through you like a rot
Until you had a hardened soul
…Without the softer spot
That makes us human, forms the core,
…That sees in other men
Those selfsame hopes, desires, and dreams
…That you should have within.
One wonders why you didn’t learn
…From hist’ry that you read
…And he as good as dead.
Like men might ape a monster,
…You copied from his plea.
But did you ever pause to search
…The fruit from off his tree?
The world goes on just as before
…His bombs ripped life and limb.
And most, his motives, do not know –
…Just that the man was grim.
And so you’ll sink into your cell
…Like cesspools sludge away
Into the deep recesses of
…The foulest of decay.
You’re just another coward caught,
…Who could not face a gun,
But full of hate killed innocents,
…Who couldn’t even run.
Our heroes face the fiercest foes.
…Thus, valiant is their name,
With medals, honor, and parades;
…But yours – the badge of shame.
And all for what? For nothing gained,
…And so much that was lost.
You wrought a load of woe and tears
…At the most awful cost.
© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.