by Nick Gisburne
A quarter of the moon ascends the sky
A shining, silver witness to the crime
He waits to see the woman passing by
The shadow of a long-forgotten time
Her malice made the monster he became
Abandoned, broken, captive in a cage
A hurricane of hatred screams her name
He breathes a boiling storm of crimson rage
Revealed, he aims the weapon at her chest
Her face is soft with age, but not her eyes
She sees him falter, beaten by the test
And smiles with deep regret, but no surprise
She pulls the gun politely from his hand
With love her son may never understand
