When man turns a predator
There is none to rein in the beast
From the dark, the lone, the heinous
the outcries, the outrage unheard
What lays overpowered,
Makes its way to the grave
What or who could avenge the wrong
Even as the right drags itself in that throng
In faint footsteps, to battle over the dead
would the living revive once shed?
The faraway, the unseen, entrenched in its place
Is Justice just to be looked upto, for a face?
Unmoved, the wait, the drawl, the idling
What would shake it awake,
to see the last trace of humanity dying?
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