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Dec 2013
Born a human, innocent and young,
Night time his mother's voice has sung,

Sweet melodic songs learned in her youth,
What career would he chose, doctor, lawyer or sleuth?

Uncle Sam made this choice, against mothers will,
Drafted and trained, they taught him to ****.

Gunpowder and death, are the scents in the air,
Many miles away from mom's love and her care.

Common is this scene, man is weaned on war,
Happy is the day the fighting is no more.

But not this day, the bullets fly,
Bombs explode, and men will die.

Special forces have trained this boy well,
His future is set, his mind placed in hell.

Countless incursions behind the enemies line,
An Assassins life is always in a bind.

Given a target, nothing else in his head,
I can't go back, until my mark is dead.

His time in the service has come to an end,
Many targets erased, on a plane they will send,

Him back to mother, innocent no more,
A dark dank distance, for mom is in store.

For many like him, the story ends here,
Lost and alone, his nights filled with fear.

But not the special forces, a letter will be sent,
An opportunity awaits, that will pay all the rent.

We have a position, and qualified you are,
Your records from the service, indicate you were a star.

Come to Washington, see if the jobs OK,
The letters return address, was marked CIA.

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Paul Morgana
Written by
Paul Morgana  Merrick, NY
(Merrick, NY)   
720
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