Image for the poem Hit


Locked in vision.  
Trapped, awaiting my decision.
Non-related interests compressed into a mission.
One triggered muscle group away from losing vital fluid and gray matter on display.
Is your life worth taking?  
Is your wife a widow in the making?
So close. So crisp and clear in my scope.
Yet so far away.  
Surreal, while my breath is held so no words to say.
Nothing personal. A cold hearted job which i didnít plan on taking first of all.
Second, i donít even stand fully behind my country or understand fully how i stand here miles away from you and...
A tear blurs my vision.  
A blink or two clears it and reminds me off the tears i shed while kissing my 4 year old goodbye in the kitchen.
I miss you Billy. I miss your mother and the rest of the family.
I miss the good times. I miss...
I canít miss.
My rifle seems to live a life of its own.  
No matter the adjustments i make, no matter the times i recompose myself and lose count off these pills i take...
Finally i get back in my zone.  
Scoping out the familiarities of the surroundings and the life iím supposed to own.
Heís gone. No sight on the target...
An entire country behind me yet so alone.
Day 178; nothing to report.  
Going home.
Written by Drieks
Published | Edited 2nd Jan 2021
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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