Paul F. McCann

BURY THE SNIPER

The unseen sniper waits like a deadly virus waiting to strike,
Looking out for some innocent victim through his infrared sight.
Crawling over rooftops in the night pointing his gun at our heads,
But he can’t see what’s coming. Justice and truth are the things he dreads.
He squats, finger on the trigger, he’s a killer at the ready!
Bang!
Single shots ring out.
Bang!
He tries to hold his weapon steady.
What does he think as his victims fall?
Are they equal in his sight?
It’s a snipers pride must decide, as if by some God given right.
Master of life and death he walks over the seventh commandment.
Bury the sniper until the dead shall rise.
Will he ever repent?