Colin F. Jones


What is this law which favours those corrupt,
Which protects the fiend while the victim cries;
It takes one criminal to create another,
For somewhere along the line someone dies.
Human rights are lost with the victims life;
Transferred to the killer and the rapist who
Are given sheaths to hide the bloodied knife,
And the greedy lawyers who are guilty too.
What more is there than clinging to faith’s hope,
Hoping, like this world; it is not fake,
For it is the victim’s kin who long must cope,
While others scheme and snarl and take
What did I fight for in the war,
Is this the world that my friends died for?