The Executioner Poem by Aidan Ross

The man walks to his mailbox and reads his letters
Junk, junk and more junk, but one thing sticks out
Money, and another request like so many before it.

He gets ready for what must be done
He gets in his car and travels to his destination
Everything is ready.

He finds the house and looks at the picture he was sent
He slips on the black hood, the rubber gloves, the dark glasses.
He’s ready to go to work.

He enters the house through the backdoor
He walks around until he finds the living room
His client greets him.

His clients draws a cross in the air and moves to his knees
He produces the sleek silent colt, from it’s holster
He places the barrel against the clients forehead.

All is silent
Both sit in anticipation
The barrel flares, and life is annihilated.

The man leaves, his job done
His fee earnt, his soul damned
Unseen agent of desire.

He departs a messenger of freedom
To free more, who’s faith won’t let them die
Liberation.