Plucked from my Temporal Lobe

She held a gun to my head and asked me if I could say anything what would it be

I didn’t know i was so scared, I was so frightened, picking your last words on short notice was turning out to be more stressful then having the barrel shaping plump ring on my temporal lobe.

These are your final moments you could say anything

Anything

No one would ever know

She told me to sing and I couldn’t

I wanted to I really did

I saw her sitting across from me, by what I thought was a mirror, watching observantly

The amber eyes taking in every last detail

Just accepting

She had the hands to paint

She had legs to dance

Her eyes fixated on me, mouth agape

Just an observer, never the participant

Those amber eyes still staring at the girl with the barrel against her brain, living out each and every last second of her life not sure what to say or sing

Unable to remember the words she wanted to proclaim before the curtain call

It’s easier to recite the words of others, the sings another’s song

But to have her own words, to sing her own song, 

She’d rather the nail polish that matched her french leather hand bag would better tell her story.

She was always singing the words of others

Her own would never suffice

But now even with the c**k of the gun still ringing in her ears

It wont create the rhythm to match her rising heart beat

And her scream wont form to a melody

To become her last ballad

That girl by the mirror

Just sitting

Just accepting

Never singing

I prayed to a god I wasn’t sure existed, just in case

Hummed songs I couldn’t remember the words to

Picked at the nail polish that I once thought told me who I am

I plucked the gun from my temple

Wiped the tears from my amber eyes

Sharpened my claws and barreled towards the exit door.

Author's Note

this is a suuuuuper super rough draft! i just want to see what people think of it so far.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Wow. A very interesting and dark story. I like how you brought me into the poem. So many strong points you made in this poem.
"Her eyes fixated on me, mouth agape
Just an observer, never the participant"
No weakness in this poem. Just powerful story. I like the ending. You create a outstanding poem.
Coyote

[Dream Weaver]

All this needs is a movie screen and some popcorn!
Thrilling and enjoyable....

[Robin]

for a rough draft this is on its way to be a masterpiece . intense writing from the depths of the heart . reason found at the precipice ..