Inside is a minefield
of unexploded anger
waiting to topple the wary heart.

Bred in hellish prisons
I am a terrorist of the soul
stalking the innocent
and punishing the worthy
for nothing more than that they are.

I am a walking time bomb
of devilish artistry
honed on battlegrounds
where hope and love have withered
and torment is my delight.

I am a repository of all afflictions
festering under a darkened sun
born of deeds and people
untended, unlit, unloved, unheard, undone.

And so the guns are oiled
and the imperial men wont refrain
from wiping their sleeves in the blood of children
again and again and again.

9/13/01

2/2/03

Lucia Dailey