Justice

Just ice

that melts and falls 

out of the eyes of

a scarred victims face

to land back on the 

ground, evaporated to find

itself recycled to 

be reused again in 

some other form of justice

just melted ice to fall 

again from the next victims

window to a tormented soul

durranged by someone who

could twist it into another

form.

The justice of a key turns

the barbed wire protrudes

the bars that hold the

source of my melted ice

tears. they change in my 

own security

mimicing the chains and

a metallic cell in a

stone building somewhere

marked "SECURE".

so again you are left

secure, locked in safe

And I am here, left in 

the world marked by what you took.

Insecure.

Seemingly unsafe.

And in my state

I realize that

justice

has merely become 

POETIC JUSTICE.