A Red Punchbowl

A Red Punchbowl

 

I take a break from dancing,

to get a drink of punch,

I stare into it,

a reflection appears in the ripples,

but it isn't mine,

it is death's.

I guess I forgot the deal made earlier,

I sold my soul for this battle,

in a single moment I am pulled,

but it isn't really punch at all,

kust other souls, like me, floating by,

I suppose I am not the only person,

who likes taking risks,

I feel nothng now.

A large scoop,

fifty of these souls in a cup,

gulped down by the anorexic girl,

the one in pink I was eyeing before this;

being the girl she is,

we are in the toilet in a heartbeat,

of coarse with the help of her finger in the throat.

A flush and we are swept out to hell,

I guess everything gets flushed here,

the heat dehydrates us,

even searing the devil's face,

my eyes focus back in,

the punch was tainted.

For some reason I here cheering,

they are cheering for me,

that is how I was saved from that fate,

I stare back into the punchbowl,

and there lies,

fifty more souls to take my place.