The acrid scent of blood
overwhelms my senses
the metallic tang
distracts me from all else.
I whip the crimson liquid
from my blade
with a habitual twist of the wrist
flecking the fear-stained earth
with the scent of death.
The quiet is almost tangible
I breathe in
the stillness
like poison.
I feel as if I am
the only being left
to experience the silence of the world.
Oh, that I had known
of the world
before I made my choice!
Before this day
I had been a passionate person
hopeful
confidant
with enough empathy to share.
I was such a child.
Now
all I feel is the familiar resentment
tinged with wary thoughts
and forced, cold apathy
I carefully mop up the dripping blood
from the smooth steel
until it gleams.
When I first started this job
being indifferent to the blood
was a struggle.
Now
the scent seems to cling to me.
In the beginning
ignoring the agonized screams was hard.
Now
my victims don't have time
to scream.
I am the perfect Hitokiri
Who of you will do as I do?
Who else can?
I toss the bloody rag
it lands over the corpses
I snap my weapon shut
with a resounding click.
Walk away coolly
Like murdering ten men
in one night
doesn't haunt my soul.
I am the assassin in the shadows
I am not meant to be human.
However
tonight
will be spent
rubbing
the scarlet spatters from my clothes
threadbare
Tonight
will be spent
scrubbing
my blood covered hands
raw