A Tyrant
finds ease in cutting corners
difficulty in shedding light in the dark
such a mortal’s combat is just
he thinks
no evils lurk in capacity
from heights beyond notice
because capacity is the just
he persuades
the sky screeches
the ground bellows
cries flat line and streams of pain mark the surface
for the wondering
the mortal calls it justice
and for the unjust
who finds ease on a mere strip
who sheds light in the midst of havoc
is a such a mortal’s combat not just?
one would think
can evil find shelter in this capacity
or call home stolen property
simply because
is unpersuasive
and when the sky whispers again
and the ground whimpers
laughter will fill the air
tears of joy will mark a blemished surface
for the wondering
such mortal calls this hope
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