Stench of Justice.

Her name, called out backward.
Her clothes, torn roughly
and shrewn,
Carelessy, on the growing pile

of forgotton lives.
Laid bare for all to see;
A propaganda, to scorn
that this massacre,
was \"too long in coming\".

Never hearing,
the constant screaming,
that echoes in his wake.
They are, but an inconvienience
to his plans.

Her emaciated form
is dragged from the chamber.
No longer wiping the blood
that colours her lips.

The stench of justice
blankets the ground in ash.

A young girl wrinkles her nose
As she takes out the trash.