Dear deity of pure judgement,

 

I see something, and I am scared.

I am pretty sure it is a monster.

His eyes are dripping blood,

And it may pertain to one person or another.

There is anger in his face,

Anger that arrived by itself without a case.

His hands are still stiff

From when he threw the cold bodies down the cliff.

The monster still remembers what he did,

Even though it happened when he was still a kid.

He remembers My Lai,

And the people that fell and the burned kites.

He still remembers Vietnam,

And the lives he ended because they pertained to the Islam.

Their ghosts will not leave him alone,

For the guilt he now drags will even watch over his tombstone.

He will never feel warm again,

For a dead soul is colder than a grey array.

I see something, and I am very scared.

I am pretty sure it is a monster,

But I cannot tell if it is the mirror or just myself.

 

Sincerely,

An old veteran of life