Confessions of a target killer

With a malicious agenda, he would seek his prey, taking lives for a living was his familiar way.

Dr Ali Rafiq January 23, 2013
Look not in the eyes of those you kill,

They rightly say,

No heed I gave to this precious advice,

That fateful day,

 

The sun crept up into the sky, the job was usual,

A life I had to take, in a manner that was casual.

I consumed my breakfast, of bread and butter,

Made edible through the warm love, of my dear mother,

 

Her son was a jewel; a public servant was he,

Being one in a million, is what the mother would see,

Each day he would toil, working hard for a living,

Each night at home, he would peacefully be

 

Out-stepped the son when, from the bounds of his home,

He threw away his disguise; on the streets he would roam,

With a malicious agenda, he would seek his prey,

Taking lives for a living was his familiar way.

 

Look not in the eyes of those you kill,

They rightly say,

No heed I gave to this precious advice,

That fateful day,

 

The target today, was another man,

Walking free, on this unforgiving land,

His crime was a name, a name that wasn’t liked,

Hence he was approached, by my speedy bike.

 

Standing at a bus-stop, unaware was he,

What fate held for him later, he could not see,

Each day he would toil, working hard for a living,

But tonight at home, lifeless he’d be.

 

I got off my ride, I strolled towards him,

Checked his identity, the matter was grim,

Out came my weapon, my dear earning tool,

But before I could kill him, I looked at the fool.

 

Look not in the eyes of those you kill,

They rightly say,

No heed I gave to this precious advice,

That fateful day,

 

His pleading eyes, posed a question,

They asked me of, my acquisition,

I stared long and hard without an answer,

At this weak, unarmed and pesky inquirer.

 

The man was simple, innocent was he,

And yet in those eyes, his whole life I’d see,

Each day he would toil, working hard for a living,

But tomorrow at his workplace, he wouldn’t be.

 

His wife widowed, his children orphaned,

From a bright future, they shall be shunned,

One pull of the trigger would end it all,

His summer his winter, his spring his fall.

 

Look not in the eyes of those you kill,

They rightly say,

No heed I gave to this precious advice,

That fateful day

 

Up in the skies, the doors of hell creaked,

The devil laughed, and the angels shrieked,

“Is this why we bowed?” together they cried,

The trigger had been pulled, there was nowhere to hide.

 

The man lay down, and lifeless was he,

The eyes that spoke, could no longer see,

Each day he would toil, working hard for a living,

Silent and still now, forever he’ll be.

 

I rode away far, and as fast as I could,

Forgetting my home, my familiar neighbourhood,

The fear of my fate now, haunts my heart,

For I am the convict, of a sinister art.

 

Look not in the eyes of those you kill,

They rightly say,

No heed I gave to this precious advice,

 

Follow Ali on Twitter @dralirafiq
WRITTEN BY:
Dr Ali Rafiq Doctor, debater, freelance writer and blogger. Graduate of Dow Medical College and winner of various national and international debating and writing competitions. He tweets @dralirafiq https://twitter.com/dralirafiq
The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necassarily reflect the views and policies of the Express Tribune.

COMMENTS (45)

Karachi Wala | 8 years ago | Reply Brilliant Work Ali
Haris | 8 years ago | Reply This is amazing, awe-inspiring.
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