She stood in the waning gloom
A filthy rag over her eyes, hiding her doom.
Her right hand held a rusty nicked sword,
Results of conflict with the raving hoard.
Her left hand held the worn scales,
One balanced of gold the other, coffin nails.
Both bountiful breasts, bruised and laid bare,
Dirt and soil in once beautiful hair.
The gown rent and torn way up high
Exposing the rape, on each thigh.
The circling enemy bartered her health,
All the while, extolling their wealth.
They were not finished having their fun,
The justice they’d paid for, had only begun.
Around her lay the dead defenders,
Killed by the jeering pretenders.
The video vultures pick their bones,
While gloating counsels, laugh on their phones.
Justice was raped, she would not relent.
The rapists all laughed, “Money well spent!”.

© 1995 Tommy Barrios