Man’s Wickedness To Man

 

The city is painted red

Awash with the blood of the lowly
Innocent, slaves, servants
Lives of war and sex
Maidens defiled by monsters
Their pride, a prize for the savage.

Wickedness in high places
The departure of freedom
The emergence of woe and foe
Bloody sacrifice for bloody freedom
Freedom, even as it is noted
Never is free at all.

Crowds cheering at the prosecution
Of yet another slave, servant, offender
Forgetting these ones were at a time
Fellow citizens and free.

In the craving for power
The lower citizen suffers
The ones atop have nothing to lose
For whether you win or not
They keep themselves
And their lives.

I have yet again
Seen the nature of man
Through many glasses.