Secret Rituals: (Inspired By An Amnesty International Report On Torture) Poem by DM W

They hammer nails into their victim's skulls.
Ever so cruelly, and slowly, they drain
Away the essence of poetry's rose.
Blood red petals turn pale in the scarred night.
Summer's beauty turns to bitter winter.
Dark spectres cling to maimed, lifeless bodies.
Will fresh flowers spring from mangled torsos?
Perhaps in an absurdist play but this
Is as bleak and raw as it gets: butchered flesh;
Fingernails broken to their roots; staggered
Stutters of confessions still hang in the air,
Like the lamentations of lost angels.
The eyes of the world are fixed on other
Matters. They're half- blind, and unaware of
These secret rituals...yet Jesus wept,
They hammer nails into their victim's skulls!