Stone Anger

I hold in my hand

A stone

A bitter stone

With a sharp point

.

I grasp it

In anger

It pierces

My palm

A drop of blood

.

Oh, the poor child

They cry around me

Blaming

For the blood

Asking

How the big nasty stone

Got near me

.

When they ask

I tell them

I picked it up

And held it

.

Then

I got angry

My anger’s cause

The imprisoning and death

Of an honest woman

.

They swoop down fast

Telling me

That it was just

She deserved to die

What she had done

Was treason

And it was only a matter of time

.

They tell me this

Fawning

Flapping around me

Like plump swans

Unaware

That my eyes

Are a thousand miles away

Unaware

That the impressionable child

Is not listening

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