I hounded him like a hungry wolf,
Dragged him by feet, then struck him down,
I beat him to pulp with all my strength
Feeble he lay on that very ground.
Pitiable was his condition then,
Too weak to even barely stand,
His weak eyes looked at mine
And he pleaded with his folded hands.
I took no pity; only frowned
Struck him again; fiercely this time,
A red puddle oozed out of his head,
The price he paid for his heinous crime.
He too was no human that day
How he’d ravaged her body and soul,
A blooming rose was trampled upon
By a lecherous monster beyond control.
Alas! Futile is this hatred and rage
For this is only envisaged in mind,
If this, for once, could be true
No regrets would be left behind.
Many alike freely roam about,
Yet aren’t punished nor are they hanged
Strange are the ways how justice works
This, we've miserably failed to understand.
