The Right Hand of Death!
Good Servant of Lies.
You launched steel like rain,
spilling blood for the flies.

And the worst shame of all,
something small, dark and ugly.
As his life bled away - your joy
it was his, not your, blood there bubbling.

The years pass away,
melting like snow.
The pain lingers on though
with nowhere to go.

"So what now?" you ask.
"Why go on?" you oft ponder.
Something less than a man,
adding guilt to your blunder.

That first thought came quietly,
at first like a dream.
But it comes out much louder now,
like a desperate scream.

If you'd pulled up the mantle of manhood ere now,
you'd have seen to the end of your troubles and how.
So reach deep inside and steel up your nerve.
Don't run away from this thing you deserve.

Grab hold of her boy;
with both hands if you must.
For once male ego and pride
are things you can trust.

She's touched you there often,
yet never done this.
Let her hard mouth brush your chin
with the barest soft kiss.

Now, the fear goes away,
and the pain gets no bigger.
All erased in a flash,
when you squeeze your last love's black trigger.