Anger fills me
I stand victorious
Over the broken and battered spirit.
Blazing with righteousness.
I look pale and triumphant
At the bruised and bleeding body.
For a moment I feel remorse
Caught in an inkling of his pain
But it passes.
Remote, I walk away
Not sparing another glance
To the one
Crying into the ground.

A. Beckman 2000