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Mind of a Bomber

You can't understand just how I'm feeling

Do you fear, like me, for your own beliefs?

In sleep do you hear those dying, squealing,

Each morning, do you yearn for quiet relief?

Yes, I can see how ardently you plead,

Even dutch-boys can't stem a timer's sand,

But to be honest, I refuse everything that you ask.

I arrived here with the 'purpose of mission'

I cannot abandon that purpose now.

You believe I'm heading to perdition

I see my holy task, what, when, and how.

Don't scream for empty gods to intercede

Just remember Oppenheimer's words and

"It’ll all be over in a heated bright blast”.

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