Poetry

What noun was combative, 
enduring the poison, when 
you were subject of― 
the history, which will 
remain unwritten? 
 
The war was on, in the 
night of terror. You cannot 
reach the extremeties, for the 
sake of modesty. Violence 
sits in speech, in dirty words. 
 
The flesh needs new blood, 
and blood demands the bone 
of justice that will not― 
conceive mutilation. You become 
benevolent in spreading the fear.