I'M Next Poem by Breanna Schwartz

I knew I was dreaming
Because in real life
I didn’t actually have a brother

He was laying
In a gigantic pool
Of his own blood

The blades sliced into his skin
Mimicking the actions
Of an axe cutting into a tree

I can’t take it anymore
So I slip my hand inside my pocket
And pull out my small pistol

I hold it to my temple
Feeling the cold metal against my skin
Cold as my brothers killers heart

Right before I pull the trigger
I see her
My brothers killer

My own love.

Then I wake up
Palms sweaty, heart racing
I open my eyes to see her again

This time she’s smiling
A sick, twisted smile.

I’m next.