Their wrecked bodies festoon the fence, lovingly hand hung.
The spot was recently afflicted with such violence
now sits empty of life, full of hideous silence.

Take a hold forcefully with your grasping fingers of
the handle
and wipe the slate clean,
sweep the desk off,
rip the picture from the wall,
take ahold of your emotions and grip
the handle.
The man tells you
"The weak let tragedy define them",
but you don't listen to the man.
In righteous anger
you become the
dangerous stranger.