This post is going to seem backwards. Because it is backwards. I first saw this picture on a shirt freshman year. I wrote the poem that I am about to share around the end of junior year. I shared it with my friends who I knew would be honest with my work. They loved it.
My room is a mess and I find "lost" things in it quite often. Sometimes I will make an effort to find a certain "jewel." This poem was what I sought after. It took some ruffling through paper, but I found it.
My intention was to read it for my creative writing class. Neither the teacher nor the student teacher showed up. Instead, a community assistant was there. Nothing productive happened that day.
-Russian Roulette-
I slide a round into the chamber
Spin the chamber round and round
In a game of twisted fun
Cold steel feels smooth against my temple
The revolver clicks as I pull the hammer
Cocked and ready to fire
Slowly I pull the trigger
Sweat gleams on my furrowed brow
Blam the gun fires
Butterflies flutter from my skull
