For a Bit of Cash, They Kill People

Killers

For a bit of cash,
They kill people.
Snuffing out life,
A conscience feeble.
They don’t care,
With operatives plan –
Bullets lay bare,
Humans drop.
Ever seen a dead body?
Sniper retreats
Into the shadows,
But secrets bleat.
Blood on their shoulder.
What’s beyond death?
Killers –
Haunted
By ghostly visitations
In dreams.

Another Poem by Skendong: strange operatives: the prism is dark