Assasin | Teen Ink

Assasin

February 4, 2011
By Choturulz BRONZE, Ernakulam, Other
Choturulz BRONZE, Ernakulam, Other
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Bravery is not the absence of fear, but the courage to go on in spite of it.


The fading light sparkles softly over the wicked steel of the barrel
the man cloaked in blackness immune to the forces of life around him
the long arduous wait, then the fast paced excitement of the hunt
the end swiftly dealt without remorse to the victim

The repercussions of the actions weighed in a cool and impenetrable mind
the assassin is unwavering in his focused objective
the price of a life exchanged for the material grossness of money
the assassin is unaware of the horrified cries of the plaintive

His sole function to bring death and terrible destruction
His only assignment the terminating of marked lives
His path, dark and twisted-never to change
The cold winter hardness of his heart revelling in strife

His eyes dulled by the witnessing of so many deaths
his ears deaf to the cries of so many widowed
His clothes drenched red with the blood of his targets
The look of remoteness on his face is forced

His iron composure is a laughable farce even to himself
his soul is turned black with the crimson blood of so many
redemption is an unfathomable and unreachable prospect
like the chill of some poison in its deadly potency

Time neither moves forward or backward,life is same everyday
a new face,captured a moment in his sights and then gone,forever
estinguished, and a part of himself, gone as well, with it
stripping away at his sanity, his connection to life severed...

he keeps going, now, for what cause; he does not know,
every step weighing him down like a stake driven through his heart.
the anger and rage at the world around him, attempting to break free,
the safety clicks in the forty-five, he is ready to start.

the black coat moulding his form like a shroud of darkness
the glint of his dark eyes in the onyx of the night
the flash of steel gripped in his tightly clenched hand
the wait is over, and so is his turmoil, his internal fight

he does not do what is right but what is ordered of him
he has no conscience to trouble him
he walks alone on the path of his own creation
nor remorse or guilt or repentance to eat at him


The author's comments:
The pain of hurting someone you don't know but still delierately.

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