Poetry
A fog of dazzling color, it’s hard to turn away.
I struggle, stumble towards the finish line,
The sweet smell of candy holds me back.
Tick tock, tick. A deadline approaches.
With a chilling breeze, color fades.
My vision narrows to a tunnel,
Black between both sides, a yellow terror behind.
Nothing, then Ba-boom. Ba-boom.
A pounding heart races to the end.
Finished, I submit.
Red flows through cracks in the stone,
The smell of brimstone invades my nostrils,
Bodies splayed on the ground,
Feelings fractured, shocked and shattered,
Revenge boiling inside tastes bitter,
The smell of rain signals a storm is brewing,
Thunder claps as red rains down.
Everywhere, charred to ash,
The bitter taste turns saccharine.
Then becomes metallic,
Revenge is artificial sweetener.