Poetry

Treading gently, trying 
to feel close to the heat of 
the cardinal sins, why 
you were not able to take off 
your eyes from the 
macabre slaughter? 
 
The unknowable instinct. 
You abhore, but still want 
to see the execution. They 
were blindfolded and 
were shot at the 
back of head. 
 
Decimated. You hold the 
globes, making peace 
with the wrongdoer.He 
will not alter his ego 
and why you were afraid to 
react?