Victims Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Victims



In the alleys,
You hid my body
Inside a metal box
That stretched like a coffin.

You bathed in my blood,
You wore your most
Synthetic despairing face
And you wailed across town.

Maybe this is how it works.
The victims remain silent,
And the castigators,
The assailants,
The heartless beasts

Do what the victims
Should be doing.

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