“I win” he said,
staring down the cold black metal pointed
at his fear stricken face.

With warm blood dripping slowly,
dried and hardened, deep reds and dark browns
paint a camouflage.

Hiding him from an empty mistake ridden past that
shoved his back unwillingly against this wall,
where fear is locked deep down his choked up throat.

The tears formed then,
a hard lump in his throat, staggering his breathes
he held back, a dam holding in the feelings he couldn’t shed.

Quickly his hand ripped away from his side
and took grip on the metal, warming its cold exterior
with courageous fingertips.

Pointing the barrel away from the fear he felt
in the black of his pupils he echoed the mans words,
“I win.”

A shot followed, ringing in both their ears
that only one lived
to hear.