Who Pulled That Trigger? Poem by M. Asim Nehal

In shaded depths where inquiries linger,
the reverberations of a bone-chilling figure,
a hushed setting, a life overturned,
whispered utterances,
'Who pulled that trigger? '

A weapon's fury, a lethal scheme,
once entrusted in these quivering hands,
but who released that fateful blow,
that left a spirit desolate and low?

Was it the hand of wrath, unkind,
Of retribution fueled and fraught with kindling?
Or was it desperation's plea,
That pulled the trigger, setting free?

Maybe it was the hand of dread,
A trembling grip, yet crystal clear,
The heart once untainted,
now stained with transgression,
Ignited by a darkness within.

Or perhaps the hand that pulled the blade,
was guided by a twisted struggle,
a sickly mind, consumed by detestation,
launching agony,
sealing a merciless destiny.

Oh, such burden this question carries,
the enigma of an untold tale,
for in that instant,
silent and ruthless,
Lie shattered dreams and shattered fuel.

So let us contemplate,
each and every one,
the aftermath of a life's downfall,
and pray for justice to be revealed,
for truth's revelation, that we're assigned.

For in the end, it still matters,
who bears the cost,
who settles the debt,
to heal the wounds and bring about peace,
for life to discover its sweet release.