Unjust

• Angel Rushton, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2009

UNJUST
They’re alone at the end of the darkest street
And the birds whisper where the corners meet
They sing a sweet song of sadness and loss,
To the dead lying there among the moss.
Alone where they are; they shall never be found
And the murderer forever will wear a crown
For nobody suspects those who are high
And those who tell their people why we shouldn’t, but why?
For they themselves are the worst of us all,
Those who they think they stand above all, oh so tall.
And they realise with glee they shall never be caught,
For the ones they control are those that could have fought.
And anyone else that stands in their way,
Will be cut down with a most unceremonious ‘G’day!’
So question them not; ask no further questions
Just watch with despair they’re inhumane intentions…
They’re alone at the end of the darkest street
And the birds whisper where the corners meet
But they’ll never be found; for the man they condemned
Was the man being questioned by the murderer of the men.