The man walks to his mailbox and reads his letters <br />Junk, junk and more junk, but one thing sticks out <br />Money, and another request like so many before it. <br /> <br />He gets ready for what must be done <br />He gets in his car and travels to his destination <br />Everything is ready. <br /> <br />He finds the house and looks at the picture he was sent <br />He slips on the black hood, the rubber gloves, the dark glasses. <br />He’s ready to go to work. <br /> <br />He enters the house through the backdoor <br />He walks around until he finds the living room <br />His client greets him. <br /> <br />His clients draws a cross in the air and moves to his knees <br />He produces the sleek silent colt, from it’s holster <br />He places the barrel against the clients forehead. <br /> <br />All is silent <br />Both sit in anticipation <br />The barrel flares, and life is annihilated. <br /> <br />The man leaves, his job done <br />His fee earnt, his soul damned <br />Unseen agent of desire. <br /> <br />He departs a messenger of freedom <br />To free more, who’s faith won’t let them die <br />Liberation.<br /><br />Aidan Ross<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-executioner-2/
