• phoenyx 9w


    I'm terrified.
    I feel my body shiver down to my core.
    But I have my orders.
    And I need to follow them.
    I am up in the air,
    miles from the ground.
    With ammunition worth tons of weight.
    The aircraft I fly is the latest of deadly devices,
    all of whom were made for this particular mission.
    None of them lasted.
    Am I the next to go down?
    If I fail, there will be more people,
    after me, just like before.
    What does that make of me?
    Does my existence means nothing more than that?
    Am I just a tool? A puppet?
    The disaster that has come upon us,
    our own upbringing.
    Hadn't it already done enough harm?
    Why are we doing this?
    What do we get from this?
    As I close in to my destination,
    glimpses from the past come to my mind.
    Not only my past, but from others too.
    Images from the past that I came across
    in the media. In the books.
    The deaths. The havoc. The pandemonium.
    How would I be remembered after this?
    Would they remember me like a god?
    Or Death?
    Should I pull the trigger, or not?
    It's a dilemma.
    Would I be able to forgive myself ever?
    I need to focus.
    I need to choose.
    I need to make a decision.
    There's not much time left.
    Oh God.