A Killer
I have a job;
I kill people.
I don’t know who they are;
It’s indiscriminate.
I act on instructions.
They tell me who to kill.
I pull a trigger.
I plant a bomb.
I pull a lever.
I throw a grenade.
I press a button.
I thrust a knife.
I have no right to question.
I do as I am told.
I am cold.
I am clear.
I am calculated.
I am good at my job.
They call me a soldier.
I am a killer.
Opher – 1.11.2023
All across the world the soldiers, goons and thugs are deployed to kill.
They are trained to deaden their emotions.
They are put in uniforms.
They are made into mindless killing machines.
They fire missiles, drop bombs, blast shells, deploy drones and spray bullets, rarely seeing the results of their actions. They step over the mutilated bodies of the people who huddled together to escape.
The sniper stares down the sights and gently squeezes the trigger so as not to jerk the gun. It is the victim who jerks and falls. It’s a game of skill, a computer game. It is not real.
All over the world despots and tyrants, power-mad narcissists, crazed nationalists and psychopathic leaders dream up their excuses to issue the orders.
There’s always a good reason.
We are humans.
We don uniforms and become killers.
We are just blindly following orders.
We enjoy it.