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Just a poem that came to be from a conversation between me and my dad about Navy stuff. He told me he could neither confirm nor deny that he's actually killed anyone, but I believe that he has.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Family/Poetry - Words: 87 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 04-04-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2905143
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My father is a murderer
A killer of beings
He shoots missiles, when he goes out to sea.
But a thought that always seems to cross my mind
Right around bedtime
Before my father goes to shoot
And gives his horn a little toot
Does he think
About the other person he's about to sink
Does he think of their family.
Do they have children like he?
Because you never really know about the people you kill
Until you are on deaths doorstep yourself, lying still.
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