Russian roulette had become a routine game,
like a board game,
only, one offered the possibility of ending it all.
That bullet was going to get her someday,
Karma was going to deliver that which seemed near.
She could feel how badly he wanted to talk to her,
How badly he wanted to rumble just to get her attention,
He wanted to feel like wasn’t he was stuck,
And yet he was,
it made him spiteful.
He doesn’t know it yet,
But he will resent her someday soon.
Any mention of her name will reap rage.
He will say despicable things about her to whoever asks about her,
He will think her rotten,
And in need of a mental asylum,
And he might even consider getting that done,
But he will have nothing against her.
Nothing to make her break,
Nothing that makes her believe that she is nuts.
She looks like she belongs,
that shell of silence and solitude she resides in can’t be broken,
In that void of everything,
the world seems necessary.
In that space, she had become the ultimate Lone Wolf.
She had left her natal park,
the one she had been born into,
alone she set out to live through the brutal sun and make it so the moon and it’s stars,
she just couldn’t stand the dominance of the park’s alpha and other dominant wolves ,
she was aware she was leaving behind the comfort a pack offers,
she was losing those whom she had thought understood her.
She felt her eyes on her,
cussing her out for thinking she was different,
hating her for trying to see her world different,
but she had set out to be careful not to get into enemy territory,
not to trespass into their comfort,
she was going to make her presence that of absence,
she was safely going to find food,
even if it meant trekking a hundred miles,
she wasn’t going to howl anymore,
she wasn’t going to let her enemies know where to find her.
She had set out to be a Lone Wolf,
but it wasn’t a lonely life,
she would be alone,
aware that she could howl,
alone and deep embracing her existence,
as part of the night.
She had become part of the night and it’s children,
she had found that which the pack had suppressed,
she had accepted that which the pack had found absurd,
she knew the pack didn’t like it, she had accepted,
and so, she was ready.
For there would come a time when the pack would attack her,
and if they failed to kill her,
lack of food,
and no territory left for her,
the pack would win the Russian roulette game.
For the bullet would get to her eventually,
And her brains will lay there on the wall,
or the bullet might chip out her sanity,
and she’ll go mad,
and the pack will take her,
lock her up in a mental asylum among her fellow lone wolves.
And he will stand there watching with a smirk on his face.
And she will look at her pleased with the demise that had befallen her friend.
And she will look at them looking at her.
And she will smile at them like a crazy person.
For what seemed as punishment to them,
Was her reward.
She had left her natal pack,
and they had put her,
with those that spoke her own language.
They put her,
Where she belonged,
Within the pack of atrocities.
And she will still be a Lone Wolf.
In a pack of those whom were labeled atrocious,
And she will be home.
For they’ll have no leader,
And she can’t wait for the Russian roulette to finally turn on her