The Hunted King of Death

He paves the concrete red
And yet his hands are clean;
The children hurt or dead,
Forgotten for the green.
Unnecessary pain
For unnecessary gain,
But he just hides the stain
Of where the children lay.
This is cowardice
Of the most pathetic kind;
To destroy a wealth of promise?
He cannot be so blind.
He hides like a hunter behind his slew of guns,
But as the guilty hunted, he will always run.

© Blake Leitch January 10, 2013

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