Purge Poem by Phillip Erb
Purge
Mother’s fuse turned ash,
She becomes frustrated
Now angry
Judgment is due
Where her fingers fall
No room for justice
During Vengeance Hour
Little time to lie, wait and hide
No secrets slip past her sight
Little time for love in a life
Consumed by death.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: justice
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8/28/2026 9:59:10 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
