Joyce Rugg

Rookie (2/21/1996- / olean new york)

...And The Winner Is? - Poem by Joyce Rugg

Glazed eyes and reeking breath,
Shaking hands raised to slap
A bear, clutched in small hands,
a cross to the vampire
Hope's no match for the poison,
and the clawed hand descends

Soon enough, the high fades,
Time to face what she's done
a cool touch on the bruise,
slurred whispers, 'don't tell'
her remedy's too late,
a seed of hatred's sown

It grows like a tapeworm,
devouring everything
leaving a rage-filled husk
draining all thoughts and dreams,
twisting everything pure,
only revenge remains

Freedom comes at eighteen,
I escaped, I survived
She couldn't make me break,
so I won this game, right?
Only silence answers
as hate-filled eyes glare back

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 5, 2013

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