Misfire…

Middle of the night, stop for gas
Nowhere to go, all alone thinking about the past
The ones who should care, exercised the pain from the years of neglect
Like a laser, the girl gave her adolescent rage to a man she didn’t know
Like a sponge the father wallowed in it, saving the worst of the worst for his emotional backpack

In previous days he transferred the imperfections to others, making them his offering for redemption
In current days the guilt ate at his soul like a termite, burrowing deep into his new pillars of faith
Distraction, unexpected commotion from behind, a whiff of danger to revive
Like a moth to a flame, trained to move towards the sounds of anger
Walking into battle feeling immune to risk, armed only with his wrath and wits

The skinny man yelled, hurling disrespects at his woman
An abused spouse took it to heart, it angered the man who was once called Fart
Like a misguided superhero, he intervened not silent just deadly
Never a care about doing right, he provoked the kid into action because he wanted to fight
The wonderful reaction was not implied, subtle or intelligent, the boy raised the gun to fire in anger

Hands up in mock surrender, it gave the boy a false ease
The snake was coiled, striking when he pleased
The cobra hit hard, tossed the boy onto his back
In the blink of the eye, a heavy price to pay for his disrespect
Looking at the business end of the gun, the boy saw the grim reaper finishing the work he had done

With no emotion, remorse or regret, the superhero completed the task
Death by lead poisoning, swift, brutal, and final the judgment was not fiction, it was a fact
A single tug on the trigger, four point four pounds to be exact
The last time he did this, the end result of the meeting was a now dead ex-pat
This time an Angel intervened, the end result would forever change his path

The chamber sat empty, the boy didn’t load it right
The hero knew what was wrong, fixed with a jerk on the receiver and a simple re-rack
The half-second pause gave him time to think, he wasn’t murdering an enemy of the state
The child was an American, a citizen of a country he swore to protect
The hero staggered back, with the realization that he no longer wanted to be the perfect instrument of death

The pardoned boy watched with surprise because the man who once loved to kill, cried

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2 thoughts on “Misfire…

  1. “The hero staggered back, with the realization that he no longer wanted to be the perfect instrument of death

    The pardoned boy watched with surprise because the man who once loved to kill, cried”

    – This end brought a lump to my throat.
    Wow! Very powerful.

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