Smoke blowing off his parched mouth
He clicked his tongue
And then asked me,
"Do you feel it?"
I simply stared at his impassive face
And then I turned
And looked at them,
The bodies around me.
Blood oozed and clogged the beach
Broken limbs scattered
Faces blown away,
"No," I replied.
His expression never changed any
The glint in his eyes
Shined with gritty reality
He asked, "Why?"
"You killed them, not me," I said. "Not me."
"True enough," he agreed.
"But I am a mercenary.
My job is to kill.
"You shook my hand with nary a whimper,
You pointed them out
And you never wavered.
Am I really the killer?"
"No, I'm innocent," was my desperate plea
And my eyes blurred
As I pulled the trigger
Of the gun in my hand.
My blood pooled around my heart
The gun billowed smoke
And it spun around
And dropped from my hand.
–Aarabdh