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12 Alive Dead Brute (A Policeman’s Thoughts) Shoot the senile brute You know you want to, Deep down to your marrow. Vengeance is sweet, you know! Come-on, shoot the senile brute. Even the azure sky knows there is no Peace The sun, red hot, penetrating, scotching Pierce your dry ashen skin, no Peace. Your mouth frothing, Eyes, blazing with maddening rage, Blood-thirsting and a vengeful stare Pierce the senile brute’s eyes cowed in cowardice. Surely, you know you want to annihilate him! Your finger tightens around the trigger. The veins in your neck throb. Your forehead perspires. Suddenly, a light goes far deeper into your brown eyes Your finger slips, loosening its grip off the trigger. He has no conscience— Alive dead brute. Save the bullet. Save your soul. ...

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