Hate, such an easy feeling
A tempest of rage inside
Blinded eyes while the devil's dealing
Sweating hand with death as it's bride
Icy eyes starring behind the gun
An itchy finger nervously trembles
Deadly deed soon to be done
Taunt, pale ghost he resembles
In the shadows lurking
Careless victim unaware
With much patience, he is working
From his abode, he emerges without a care
Hand muscles slowly contract
Falling with a thud, his aim exact
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem