The Assassins Kill

Time crawls slowly as my mind focuses.

One shot, silent.

Second shot, no one notices.

Third shot, he falls to the ground.

Timing is key.

The images of the assassination

run circles in my mind,

did I do it right?

The tiles fly underneath me

as I run on the hot rooftops,

jumping from house to house

in a way no one can spot me.

I’m like a hawk,

my eyes focusing

on the hideout right before me.

My mind starts to wander-

no, it can’t wander-

I need to focus.

Even the birds, flying beside me

don’t make a sound-

they know I can’t be spotted.

My father was killed by

the man I just murdered,

a harsh man who knew nothing of guilt-

a man of power.

Why must the powerful

kill the poor-

the lesser of the rich and famous?

It was treason, they said.

He was a criminal, they accused.

But, in reality

they were the murderers,

the cheaters and the thieves.

Besides, the man of power

got what he deserved.

I, however was never there.