I’ve taken too long, passing beyond
My understanding. I’ve inched up on
An elbow, watching the ax-wielding
Assassin. My left side throbbed.
My bullet-proof vest took the brunt
But I was broken. I fell face
Down on the floor and watched
His boots as he stomped about
Viewing his work. Satisfied,
He turned and swung the ax over
His shoulder, drenching my face
With the blood of all the others.
A long time later I struggled up
And made my way through the
Carnage. Cleaning the blood
From my eyes I touched the
Badge on my belt, the gun
In my holster. I stood
Unsteadily considering my
Obligations. Should I retire or
Go out seeking my assassin?
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