He held the gun to my head

And asked me for my innocence.

I stood there, silently memorizing

his distinct features.

His deep, dark black eyes

had a certain murkiness

like the reflection of the moon

in polluted waters.

His long slender fingers

strangled the pistol

with sinister intent.

I looked to his stomach, concave

like a den which held a

wicked beast

capable of killing me with a single blow.

I peered into it and saw

that it was a similar to mine.

Unable to process my feelings,

I expressed none at all.

My mind was blank,

more empty then the sands

of the most desolate desert.

Until suddenly, anger filled my mind

and that desert was replaced with an ocean.

I looked down, then back at those features

that now haunt my darkest dreams.

And I cried.

I cried tears not of sadness or fear,

but rather tears of frustration and anger.

I cried at my weakness, at my inability

to Fight.

Like a newborn baby attempting to crawl

from the confines of its crib.

Like a one legged Colosseum fighter

running from a sword and the

fate he could not avoid.

And at that moment, I vowed:

"Never Again"