Roulette

 

Six times the barrel round

Six times empty, one wishing grain

Open the stomach, fill it with ammo

Five times empty, one with grain

Spun it closed, six times round the barrel it rolls

Holds her breath, eyes clenched shut... silence

Relief!

He smiles and says no big deal, gun against the head...

Nothing.

Next is the hidden suicidal, wishing mislead euphoria!

Disappointment...

Being cocky he points it in the eye and...

He shakes and spasms, a coward at heart, he will be again.

Odds against her, faith fleeting, out the door she holds her life now pulls the trigger,

Excitement!

The masochist looks worried, wishes all a tear filled farewell, but must go on.

Friends in tears, but what is this?

The three year old with the pure smile comes and takes the gun.

Imitates the adults and...BANG... Smiling like always the babe runs away.

All looked relieved, the cap gun from the child on the sofa echoed simultaneously

Six times round, but not a single trickle of blood, but

Where is the bullet?

In the kitchen on the floor, he idles.

Vodka to wash the pills, and a bullet for the thrills.

Author's Note

Any comments, confusions, criticisms, ect... much appreciated!

Reviews

[Justin]

Ah, Roulette. This is a perfect poem for you. I must admit I'm not quite so fully aware of everything as the person who reviewed before, but your style tends to do well in poems of this sort. Rarely would I have thought of a game of Russian Roulette as you take it and mold it into quite an odd piece.

[Loner]

This pulled me in. I found it delightfully disturbing. I felt grasped and drawn into a snapshot of one's starkly lucid emotions. I didn't find it confusing. It was intense and profound.