I SHOT THE DESPOT


The eastern night ,

Burned bright.

The sound of rockets filled the air

But in my sights

I had the man.

My finger tightened on the Manlicchers trigger

And the man appeared to be so much bigger.

I held back.

Killing contrary to popular belief is not so thrilling.

I can see the hairs upon his nose,

The beads of sweat across his brow.

And now I have seen

 I will become what I have been.

The pressure tightens

The barrel lightens

The man falls.

And that which I was

I am become again.

The sniper.

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