a soul less killer dies
he didn’t blink
when the light caught his face—
just stared like a dog too long in the rain.
no prayers,
no cries,
no family on the concrete bench.
he killed for sport,
like swatting flies—
and still the world made room for him.
the guards were tired,
the chaplain bored.
death smelled like disinfectant and steel.
he coughed once.
then again.
then silence.
nobody wept—
not even the devil.
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