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Young Writers Society


One Man Russian Roulette



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Gender: None specified
Points: 1063
Reviews: 4
Thu Jan 26, 2012 1:59 am
writeswiththunder says...



*based on a true occurrence in my life*

Spin. Clack.
'Round the chamber goes.
Evil hurries quickly,
Feeding on your woes.

Spin. Clack.
Where'd that bullet go?
It hurtled itself across the room,
Broke my barrier of thought,
'Got me screaming no.

Spin. Clack.
Your demons taunt and tease.
Falsified images in your mind,
Making your breath weeze.

Spin. Clack.
Barrel to your head,
Silver shinning metal
Ready to unload led.

Spin. Clack.
Saw this all before,
Screams are echoes of last time,
Only praying for no gore.

Spin. Clack.
You throw the gun aside,
Fists pounding on the sides of your head,
Screaming 'This is all a lie!"

Spin. Clack.
Just how the story goes,
Each revolve a newer problem,
Just waiting to be told.
  





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286 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 625
Reviews: 286
Thu Jan 26, 2012 2:05 am
silented1 says...



I didn't read it, but just by looking at the amount of words between your repeated phrases tells me they are too repetitive. When you repeat something, try to build on it so it doesn't get boring.
[quote]If it's arguable, then it probably is." - Xeriana X

Link to my will review for food thread: topic71713.html
  





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Gender: None specified
Points: 1063
Reviews: 4
Fri Jan 27, 2012 2:45 am
writeswiththunder says...



silented1 wrote:I didn't read it, but just by looking at the amount of words between your repeated phrases tells me they are too repetitive. When you repeat something, try to build on it so it doesn't get boring.


How can you deem it boring when you don't even read it? -_-'
  








It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien