Bubbles

A random poem I wrote in high school

Blood red, lying in the bed of my enemy. Lying in wait, ready and posed to shred and destroy, not wanting to kill, but not wanting to die, unsure of how to proceed, the tide will not recede. Retreat is not an option. The only choice it to proceed with caution, killing with passion results in a loss of compassion. There can be only one way to end this vile construction, is by total destruction. I will not submit, I will only resist. They will soon wish to cease to exist. The foul scent of their essence on the breath of my weapon. I spring uncoiling, my weapon flashing in the moonlight. Striking each in turn, dodging returning blows, knowing I can’t be beaten. I watch as this realization dawns on them, their confidence shattered, their bodies battered. It is over, there is no more need for cover. I stand in the open, waiting, waiting for a sign of opposition. There is none, for it appears that they have been beaten into submission. I turn and walk from this bloody situation.