No Quarter

I don’t want to fight my demons anymore.
I don’t want to lay in trenches with enemy fire marking the night sky
Huddling, afraid to raise my head above the ground for fear of taking another wound.
It’s time for this war to draw to a close. I’ve waged it far too long.
And I have survived, though not without my scars and
Coming dangerously close to my own mortality in the fray.

It’s time to declare victory and deal with dark agents
And give them a fitting end.
I want to call them by name. Fear. Shame. Countless others.
And march them out in front of a crumbling wall.
Giving them no quarter, no final words, and take the last cigarette myself
Look them in their hollow eyes, and let the smoke curl around us
Foreheads almost touching
And face those soulless sons of bitches one final time,
Showing them I am not afraid. Let them feel the weight of my resolve.
And drill the glowing butt between their eyes
Burning them with my anger.

When I’ve named them and faced them I will stand at close range,
Close enough to smell their fear and so they can smell my sweat
Raise my pistol, cock the hammer,
And coolly place the muzzle against the scar I burned,
Pull the trigger, and send them back to the abyss
Never to torment me again.



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