The Assassin

A few friends of mine started playing a game of assassins. In response to the humorous fear the game had created, I started messing with my friends. this poem was left in place of a car bomb.

Around every corner

Under every stair

Before you meet the coroner

You’ll meet her deadly glare

 

Waiting in the shadows

Waiting in the dark

Waiting ever patiently

Waiting for her mark

 

Always keeping secrets

Always telling lies

Always aiming carefully

And then somebody dies