To feel this much anger
at even picturing a persons face seems,
in itself, harsh.
But picturing that face
Those faces
Sends my mind in pursuit
Of a crusade
To avenge myself
The younger self
That was taken from me
And stripped bare
And shot
As I stood by watching.
Those faces plague me in my sleep
And torment me as though I've done wrong
But I haven't
And I will find them
And hurt them
As they have hurt me
Or worse.
They will weep.
I promise.