Collaboration
They think us traitorous,
Shouting and spitting, they hate us,
In our hearts we know what we do,
We'll make them see it's true.
I see them now moaning and weeping,
About life, us, our benefactors and death creeping,
Some act innocent and play the un-accused,
Good men's lives they have abused.
I enter first through the door,
Heavy footfalls crush the floor,
one turns from the television set,
my eyes show no trace of regret.
I fire once and his soul set free,
the others turn and scream at me,
My brothers fire into the room,
None will escape this wretched tomb.
On the television, out he stares,
The one we've served now with care.
The dead stare silently at their annihilator,
The television speaks; "Yes, I am a collaborator."