Crying to God in The Shower

It is a good thing God is your judge For the women of the world the children the multitudinous “other” we are wretchedly unsparingly, mercilessly angry I empty my body of oxygen pouring out my grief in agony to the heavens pleading for justice till the last drop of salty moisture is wrung from my very pores Previously mangled knees scraping against sharp broken tile floors All the tears cried collectively could scour you all from the face of this earth Where are they all conserved the tears of the damned in this life? Do they condense into a special cloud? To rain on all the ghouls without heart or do they go back to the same water cycle that the massing lot of slaving tyrants get to partake of? Are we all just bathing in the hot anguish concocted by the corrupt? Meant to soothe and control us Distract from the obvious dystopia lying on the bathroom floor scattered and broken before us Better grab a towel the water is running cold
K.B. Silver
American author
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