Rosary Beads and Nail Bombs

A bit of a twist on the standard act of terrorism

A spine-chilling ticking echoed inwards to his chest,
Un-heard and un-noticed in the bustling airport,
Franticly he hurried to a busier area,
Not wanting his sacrifice wasted.

Sweating fingers flicked over old, worn rosary beads,
As he sat next to a pregnant woman,
Muslim scum, he thought,
They deserved it, every life lost a triumph for his country,

A young girl approached him,
And with poor English said,
`Sir I think you dropped this`,
A brown wallet in her hand.

But the veil of ignorance was lifted too late,

His cry of remorse unheard when the ticking stopped,

The Burst of nail piercing flesh,
And the bustle was silenced,
Just a whisper of death,
Teasing the ones still hanging on.