---

just another face in a faceless crowd

drifting through throngs but he is alone

a nervous sweat, a trembling hand

the dying thoughts of a cornered man

the nameless, hopeless, drifting by

oblivious, that it's their time to die

your deaths erase his pain

a passing eased by those he maims

no silence, no angels stealing flight

from perfect to death-bringing light

so many erased in a second, reduced to a memory

undone by an instant of selfish killing need

lives put out by flying spite

bodies recoil, scattered like leaves

targetless murder, take whom you please

no smoke no flames, just a hail of debris

against its cruel claws all flesh must yield

against the white light of divining it seems

all flesh turns black and death is revealed

is this the hand of god or the fist of defeat

that one shall thus kill as the only release?