The Sniper's Dream

I am a man apart from any other. I am neither saint nor sinner. I am a shadow, both illusion and reality. No man fears me; no one man shall be my mortal enemy.

I am death. My scythe is swift and sure, they suffer not. Compassion eludes me, I do not hate. I am cold; I am death. The living are my prey; there is no escape.

Once I sleep, my soul awakens- empty of compassion, no trace of hate. There is only pain, cold and searing. I am death, the dead I cannot escape.

I awaken. My mind is racked by the pain of my tortured soul. My blade is slowed and innocents will pay the price...

This night shall death sleep eternal. I must make penance for innocence forever lost. My blade falls slowly, but with deadly intent. I am entranced by the final gleam of my blade.

The darkness seeps into the light till there is nothing left but the cold searing pain- and my soul weeps crimson tears for the loss of innocence, the loss of life.

Never again shall my blade reap such a rich harvest. I am death and I have paid the final price. The ferryman awaits on the River Styx, my toll paid with innocence lost.