A very tight knit poem. You can really feel the poet's disgust at himself yet he must toil onwards with this dirty work. It flowed together quite well. I can just envision a cold blooded killer, sniper rifle briefcase in hand on a balcony writing this.
A few words were crammed in. Poems usually consist of two syllabic words. Longer ones than that usually make the poem seem like a block. Not a bad piece, not a bad piece at all.
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