Still midnight,
the human drone stalks its prey,
mind tuned to destruction
as he is destructed,
seeking the thrill of his part
in this play tragedy,
dissipating,
projecting his hatred on others,
innocents,
non-threatening,
a witless gun
his only true form
of power.
Emily C. Poésie © 2018
InPoems 601
The Melancholy Spitfire 