Blame isn't a Game

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A prose poem
Written as a social commentary
Against the dereliction of duties in regards to victims
The association of blame and corruption

Submitted: November 14, 2013

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Submitted: November 14, 2013



Court of injustice,

Hearing her name horribly contradicted half desiring to impeach the police to give testimony to his willing in front of the court room defiling her identity house spoke her name wrong on purpose, An absurd derivative of the false equations of ethics math's logical premise for equality doesn't find the sum of anymore...

Apex officer code of moral hygiene never tested but in easily deniable moments or in dark allies where succubus lie in way to seduce seemingly alright men into a transformation from c(r)op of a sworn oath academy to pig... Burying inconveniences behind a badge like a British half Columbian farmer hid sexual corner of once your favourite street workers, times eleven.

Unofficially paperwork is signed that commissions a dreary life configuration for someone else's children not so far from the ruins we call home, Hope lies in angst, Frustrated by the blame we're passing no longer behind backs with gossip but in front of judges with bull horns... Screaming 'I just gave you an account by my own lips of the grudge predatory sex match in my own bed that I was violated in happened and now you're telling me it didn't happen that way at all...'

'By all my inhuman rights sold into sexually trafficked before all the witnesses of this courtroom for a single pint of beer, that may or may not have been laced with unmandatory pills to get me into bed, maybe it might have happened some other way... But it didn't, I was raped and now this official document entitled falsified  public criticism transcripts you're all selling my life away.'

What society is this... No wonder Maureen forgot what happened on Friday, bringing the shame amidst sexual pill marionette in a filthy puppet's bed once called her own but auctioned off in a back yard bonafide she started it to scorch cauterise the scars of the black and bruised locked door fire she watched that night until the vermilion shade of red's malignant clot of her memory set in, that mourning, she'll never remember again just to forget the pain all over and over and over he violated her and now I'm just a bygone of the same sexual odyssey of this disgusting historical no less than every future generation will look back and say this was but a rogue history we lived, Rife with the plague of blame, greed and corruption of every codex doctrine of ethics sandcastle earth's ruins once imbibed us all upon birth with... Just so we could throw them over easily away.

Nothing irrelevant ever continued to happen save by our allowance, by standard lateral effective crime watched endlessly in the dreamscape of mirrors no one ever mentioned... Because we're a society built in a web of blame, siding with the abuser more oft than the sitting on the side of every line the jury past by to convict her guilty of being only for a brief half of a second no chance but this moment of submissive nature, thus she was sentenced to eternal but no less than mandatory shame.

This is our society today...
In faith & hate

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