The hitman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
The poem describes the mind and circumstances of a hitman and his victims.

Submitted: June 22, 2017

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Submitted: June 22, 2017

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I’m the fallen angel of death, I’ll wipe out your brother named Seth. I’ll lace your shit with no trace and you won’t see my face and there won’t be a case for you because it will look like an accident. These are some definite facts isn’t it? You can run but you can’t hide but you’ll be gone before you can confide to anyone. My psyche is ice cold; your life will unfold before your eyes. My methods are so concise that it will be more than enough to suffice one’s death every time. I’ll climb your mansion to get to you regardless of the expansion of your protection, I’ll slice you into sections and you’ll bleed to death or die of an infection and you’ll become a part of my collection of souls that I’ve worked to consume. You won’t see me in your reflection because I’m always looking for the next selection of souls in the while I work in the dark. When the hit is on you I will be lurking in the darkness and you will never see that spark of light that was meant to save you. It's all fun until it's done.

 


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