and got it slit,”
The lawyer for defense
solemnly remarked.
“The whore was asking
to be killed.
“My client was a
victim of seduction.
“Would you really take
the words of this dumb slut?”
The jury nodded
in agreement.
An older man,
the prosecutor, stood.
He looked into the jury
choosing his words carefully.
“The slut was
seven…”
He said and then sat down.
We never seem to have the whole story, unless we are the victim or the alleged perpetrator. And yet we judge quickly. With the same bared throat, we find our own jugular pierced! It is the song come to rear it's ugly head; ♫we were born with knives in our hands...♫
ReplyDeleteSuch a great ending to this poem Ben. I will be thinking about this for quite awhile my friend.
~Annie
Love your comments Annie :) Always insightful, inspiring.
ReplyDelete