Memory Lane

A memory blessed with hatred fell sacredly from the sky,
thousands of words were spoken, but none of them asked why.

Bullets wavered in its wake and were shaken from the air, they
fell before they flew - the gunner struck without a care.

In fact, he laughed when he saw what was to see,
the hatred that filled his blessed memory, was nothing but a  
fray in which involved you and me.

Which path did he take? Well he
shot the entire line of men. Dropping one by one
was a father, family … a friend?

Fired until he collapsed into a sobbing mess,
first he lost himself and then he lost the rest.

I could almost swear that I saw his intentions waver, but I
could be wrong – his arm never once withdrew the gun.
Not that it matters – his deed has been made, some might
Say that it was wrong, but I believe it will never fade.