Midnight Brought This

Dear Mr. Binladden,

Osama, the killer,

the terrorist undercover,

whatever.

I write to the man beneath the above names,

the man above and within the above blames.

Be he Devil, vigilante, stone-cold killer,

I write as a neutral, a distant observer.

I have read of your country

and I have read of your pains.

I have known of your doings

and I have known of your claims.

The facts, cold, considered, lit up

across the

World's headlines.

Infamous. Celebrity. Pin-up.

Idiot.

Your country is crumbling to dust 'neath your feet.

The Taliban marching through blood, sweat and shit.

None of their own.

Hazaran bone.

Rubble, rubble, more dust to dust.

Hidden beneath a Berka's veils,

sweeping your prints from hidden trails,

your Greatest Sin,

burns within.

Your ability to do nothing,

Mr. Osama Binladden.