I started this poem in English then switched to Spanish. Ultimately, I reverted to English. I was up until about 5 a.m. to finish writing and publishing it.
They say violence is not the answer, but no one raises the question: It spreads like cancer, while no one questions the lesson. That no one else is dissimilar yields apathy with no exception. I see what luck you strunted as the world hates he who bore the brunter: For if the world so hates the hunted, who then might hate the hunter? But a day will come when your hate is shunted as luck runs out for the punter. And when all in the world who the victim they hated, their sense of vengeance emancipated: They turn the tables on the lies you perpetuated, while you pretend you never participated. Then as you consider the question the judges have postulted: Should the executioner now be exonerated? you remember: The only defender you suffocated.