Tue, 07/16/2019 - 23:09 -- dickeyr

Placed into the hands of a hateful killer

I am but a good servant with a bad master

I long to be in the hands of another,

Protective father, outdoors boy, freedom fighter

I am not built to be a murderer

but to be a provider and a protector,

A provider of sustenance and safety.

This poem is about: 
My country


Fitzy Marlote

Short, sweet.and simple. I can tell you have experience on the subject. Even saints are capable of murder on the right circumstances.

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