Place your justice in my palm and then I'll make fist /
punch your grimaced face until every last knuckle breaks
& bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk painting / a mangled
body twitching and regaining consciousness and closure
at attempting composure before a bullet in the mouth
questions of exposure and god of Sunday school facades
and paycheques to validate the time I served abroad / it
all means nothing if I forget why I'm here to serve and
protect my fist over fist mind under matter career /
that's why a man sounds kind of funny when he falls to
his knees with his hand on his throat as he begs you to
please spare his life / while I explain the hardest of
bodies dulls the softest of knives then I hold up his
chin and carve Xs in his eyes / I swear I have compassion
I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life
because I am the prison guard