The Fury of Injustice

I will carry poetry from your death and realise once more the faith held in hope.
I will write soliloquies to behold what you once were and the joyous necessity that is your end.
I would tear the cooled coils of your innards into the air to spell out your sin.
Because your sin is the sin of many a man before and many a man since,
the misplaced ideal of your character,
rotted by the willingness of a single act too often repeated
upon the fresh and unsuspecting or those sadly mistaken to hope for better.
I would make a crown of your head and place it on a post before my soul as a warning hereafter.
Where many have wronged,
there falls a final sinner whose ego is no match for the furies long lain in wait within me since I was no more than a child.
Where many have wronged
you are the final attempt at the quivering wanton and feeble victory of  man and you will forever be a reminder of heir failure.

So long ago the seeds were sown that you are now merely a speck within a forest well fed and made wild by the misdeed of you and your unkind kind.
So I will lay you to rest with a guiltless smile and look forward to those of your kind who will follow you to the ground.

And they will follow.

by CWolfe


I’m Lola and I’ve been writing fiction since I learned to write and more recently some non-fiction pieces after enjoying the process of doing a dissertation; mainly minor political rants to purge some of the injustice rage and fact based poetry.

For the last five years I have been registered disabled after I was maimed during an operation and have been left housebound besides medical appointments so... I have a lot of time on my hands. This is a fact both helped and hindered by mental illness but I’m here, I’m hopeful and I haven’t started talking to the wallpaper yet.

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