Russian Roulette

A hand drops the gun to the table,
Another turns it around;
I take a seat to face my enemy
Deep breath before the rounds.

My opponent is a cool one
Fanning with a black fan;
Dares me to pick up the gun
And the fun began.

My opponent knows me through and through
She knows how to incite
The words hit home and I stand
All braced up to fight.

I upturn the glass and set it afire
to shake things up;
Hold the gun to my head
suppressing a hiccup.

Nothing happens
I give a gleeful victorious smile
I pass the gun to my opponent
and mock her back this time.

With almost steady hands
She gracefully, picks it
As if it were some jewel
Adorning the neck of a puppet

Even this time
There is only a click;
The Bullet did not choose her
My breath gets thick.

Blood rushes into my ears
My eyes, head, heart stop
All I can think of now
Is how I can pass the death cup

With steady eyes
I point my gun
Size up my enemy
and fire my Weapon

The bullet races against time
And lodges in the forehead
My enemy slumps in her chair
But I dont move ahead

Through the glass wall
I scream and scream and scream
I watch helplessly as I kill myself;
This is not a dream.

Reviews

[La3uren]

haha i like your colour choice :) i love the visuals this creates good job :)

[Kira]

Some of the rhymes were stiff, but the visuals and the ending line really get me. Love it!

[E. L. Foley]

Very intense scene. The capitalization of "Weapon" makes me curious as to whether this is a metaphor.

[Meadow Rayne]

wow....... such a sad poem. Full of emotion. Well written. I like it.

[Angie Diane♥&hea..]

This is a sad poem. Nicely written though. I really liked this. Thanks for sharing. :)