To The Cowardly Murderer Poem by Dennis Lange

(the cowmurd)

One wonders how you warped,
Like wood left to the rain
Becomes so twisted in its path
No one with half a brain

Would think it was of any use;
Would think that it was fit
(Like gnarled knots of nothingness)
For naught but fiery pit.

One wonders how the blackened mold
Spread through you like a rot
Until you had a hardened soul
Without the softer spot

That makes us human, forms the core,
That sees in other men
Those selfsame hopes, desires, and dreams
That you should have within.

One wonders why you didn't learn
From hist'ry that you read
(Unabomber's manifesto) ,
And he as good as dead.

Like men might ape a monster,
You copied from his plea.
But did you ever pause to search
The fruit from off his tree?

The world goes on just as before
His bombs ripped life and limb
And most, his motives, do not know -
Just that the man was grim.

And so you'll sink into your cell
Like cesspools sludge away
Into the deep recesses of
The foulest of decay.

You're just another coward caught
Who could not face a gun
But full of hate killed innocents
Who couldn't even run.

Our heroes face the fiercest foes;
Thus, valiant is their name,
With medals, honors, and parades;
But yours - the badge of shame.

And all for what? For nothing gained
And so much that was lost.
You bought a load of woe and tears
At the most awful cost.