Another writing exercise from picking a random word from a hat and getting creative with it, enjoy.
Long, sleek, tubular dealer of destruction
held easily up on your shoulder, a perfectly engineered killing construction
Slide in the conical charge
you’re calm, slowly breathing, the scope makes the far off target loom large
See your chance tense the finger
wrapped into the trigger, but you see something now that makes you linger
It’s a face, someone who’s real
you can do this you say but the sightless eyes looking back somehow alters the deal
They can’t see you so does it matter
their blind gaze answers no, but then you’ve lost the will to turn then into just a blooded splatter
You pull back, release tense grips
and despite years of training, the slightest quiver ripples across your fast drying lips
The cold weapon slips down to the ground
you know this is where your career hit the skids and you’ll soon be homeward bound
Court Marshall taken and rank dishonourably removed
with conscience intact and no blood on your hands the bazooka still blackened the faces only,
no bodys left to entomb
