Felicity Slaughter (January,1995 / New Port Richey, Florida)
The sun sets each day,
humbly opening the door to criminals
awaiting their turn to paint and splatter
a canvas with the blood of the innocent.
The deep black sky provides a shadow
for perverts and murderers alike
to do their dirty work.
Where is the police, those 'brave'
the men and women who were
trained to rid the streets of this filth?
Why do we feel the need to baracade
the doors and windows and dwell in
isolatiion within the confines of our homes?
What ever happened to the justice?
But that's a silly question to ask, isn't it?
The justice, it was never really there.
Comments about this poem (No Justice by Felicity Slaughter )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings