“The sound of my gun is my music.”
– Hipolito Obispo, Retired Army Officer
Perched unknown atop a tree
In a city turned rubbles, lost in the debris
White in the snow, ready to pounce
Concealed in the shadow, all set to trounce.
Clutched in my hands, my lifeline and friend
Ammos in check, scope and armor in perfect blend
It’s them or me, it ain’t a choice
My rifle – my unmuffled voice.
The hunter balks ever so patiently
Stalking the blind and unwitting prey
A couple of inch is all it takes
You’ll forever sleep in scattered bits.
The cross is forever etched in my vision
Resting on the temple, buried in the bosom
This is the world, all the world to me
The trigger’s your switch, concludes your destiny.
Never blink even for a split second
The scarlet dot’s in between your eyes
Or a crown, a tiny crimson one
The reaper’s scythe all set to smite.
Temple by temple, one click at a time
Like dominoes, inanimately turn grime
Chests popping, heads exploding
“It ain’t gonna be me, ain’t gonna be mine!”
Forgive me brother ‘tis not my will
It’s all for peace, for good to be still
You’re not evil, I’m neither saint
They’re waiting, my child and my girl, with hope not faint.
Now take a breath, take all you can
Don’t blink, be whist and be sober
Eyes wide open or shut real tight
One cock and pull, and it’s all over.
Forgive me if you’re all over…