it's funny how much damage
   a .338 Lapua Magnum can cause
   to the person wielding the
   weapon of death.

the pain sliced through me
   quick, merciless
   and death came slowly.

PERRIE GRAM, the plaque
   on my desk
   mocked me:
ACCOUNTS CLERK.

by night, my name card read
ASSASSIN FOR HIRE
although between the lines
****** SUBMISSIVE
PART-TIME LOVER
GRIM REAPER
   hovered in silence.

hundreds have died
   by the barrel of my gun:
   politicians, mob bosses
   past lovers, business competitors
   but your thirst for blood
   and revenge
   still blinds you.

"I love you," you tell me
   but the absence of
   feeling in those three words
troubles me so.

tell me: why am I still
   not good enough?