The Assassin

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The Assassin

He died
in excruciating agony,
flat on his back,
limbs flailing,
choking with
each breath,
the toxin
burning his lungs,
each dying gasp
an inhuman noise,
a call for mercy,
a plea to me,
his killer.

This wasn't
just murder,
it was cruel
torture.
When I procured
the poison,
I gave no thought
To how protracted
and painful
his death would be.
I felt ashamed,
remorseful,
but then again,
I hate flies.
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