HITMAN

I am hit man
with gun in hand 
Trigger happy
yes that’s me 
but not all the time
I can be quite stealthy

My target in sight
I look down my scope
pulling the trigger
killing my prize
while others run and hide

But guns are not my only device
Ropes, poisons, and a bowie knife
I use the rope to extinguish life
I hope my target`s not your wife
For I kill without mercy 
Your death has a price  

However, the pain it causes me 
is kept locked inside
I’m no monster 
I need to survive 
It’s what keeps my spirit alive 

But deep inside I burn alive
Some may say that’s quite contrived 
But I don’t care what you think 
I know my own mind 
And how I think 
Think I have a broken link 

I watch from afar 
Sometimes the window from a bar 
I try to remain invisible
As I watch the mourners 
Face screwed up and miserable   

Sometimes when I think it is safe 
I pay my respects and visit their grave 
I tell them that it was not personal 
And they were just a means to an end 
I don’t pretend that we were friends 
They were just a picture with a price 
A photograph with a picture of the person 
I had to ice

My enemies find me most formidable 
Therefore, I will keep doing what I do best 
Pulling that trigger to claim my reward
One day though I will slip up 
Some one will get the drop  
Then I shall be no more
Just a dead man as my victims before.