I don’t know why,
But cruelty always lived in that town.
Maybe it was in the water,
Regularly dosing the inhabitants
As it was swallowed every day.
Perhaps it was under the influence
Of some madness inducing parasite,
Indifferent to it’s casualties.
Or maybe it was cursed
By the remnant of some spirit,
Exercising wrath against the living.
Or maybe it was just cruel.
All I know,
Is that it was hardly innocent.
Behind the pleasant persona
Of a quaint woodland town
Lurked a sea of illness,
Brutallity, and active hate.
To walk the streets
Was to be exposed
To those who stalk the weak
For hardly any cause at all.
Stories of random beatings,
Robberies, and rape
Would circulate so often
To be an ever-present rule.
The law,
The real law evident to all,
Was the Melian Dialogue.
Never spoken, but even so,
Obvious to all who saw.
Small town America,
Christianity and moral life,
Those superfical platitudes applied
So heavily to disguise
The ever-present disscordance
Dancing before their eyes.
The same persons clamoring
For prayers in church gatherings
Walk out continuing
To prey on one another.
Maybe it’s the water,
Some parastie, or spirit.
Maybe it’s a culture
Of sickness they inherit.
I don’t know
What caused the place
To be the way it is,
But cruelty lives there
Nestled deep
And all do as it bids.