Cia
(This is a fictional poem)
I committed murder and it bothers me everyday.
I killed over twenty people when I was with the CIA.
I was only doing my duty for my country but I still have their blood on my hands.
I try to go on with my life but as each day passes, it gets harder to stand.
The people who I killed were bad and perhaps they deserved what they got.
But if you're wondering if I'm happy about what I did, I am not.
The pain grew a little more when I took each life.
The agony has consumed my very soul and it even drove away my wife.
My marriage is ruined and my life is ruined as well.
I did my duty for the USA and now I live in hell.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
