The Mute

His voice will never again be heard,
His mistakes will never be learned,
The monster lies mute on the bed,
Still with, no more thoughts in his head.
Corruption has destroyed his poor soul,
He’s blind and mute, just like a mole.
It would be better to have a rebirth,
Underneath the thick crust of the Earth,
Or just go there to hide away from
Everyone, the good, the bad and the scum.
These thoughts bothered my monster,
I wish rest would finally come for this ogre.

But no retaliation, he had given it all up,
In eleven days he’ll lose all of his luck.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace