Inferior Victor

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Inferior Victor

With suffocating guilt,
The aroma of victory,
Tickles her nose.
The golden cyclist,
Blankly glares in her direction,
Its piercing gaze,
Morphing each cheer,
To a song,
Commemorating her deceit.
The taste of glory,
Sits at the tip of her tongue,
The sour flavor,
Distracting from the paranoia.
The trophy of false reward,
Grows in her hands,
Her interior rotting,
In the filth of her actions.

Her face solidifies,
In a stone-cold stare,
The crowd looks on,
Mumbling inquiries,
The strobes of the photographers,
Blinding and dazing,
An already nauseous orator.






A flashback.
The men.
Her enemy.
The screams for mercy.
Blood.
As the red setting,
Rode across her mind,
It began to run from her nostril,
Her face went white,
Her head went light,
The scent of iron,
Was the last thing she experienced,
On her trip,
Bouncing off of the wooden podium,
Before flattening on the cold ground.
Shadows traded places,
With its bright counterpart.
The memory surged.
The full,
Gruesome scene,
Sent vomit,
Into the real world.
The bats,
Knives,
Steel poles,
Whipping across the room,
Screams masking each thud,
Of blunt object,
To bone.
Blood clouded the sight,
Of each menacing,
Swing and thrust.
As the liquid flowed around the room,
She felt the presence of victory,
Swim down the stream at her feet,
Into her hands.



The shutters and flickers,
Reentered her sight,
She saw a dark figure,
In the blinding field,
It appeared in front of her,
Close enough,
To steal the heat from her body.
The trophy grew in weight,
And seemed to stretch further,
Then when she received it.
The phantom got closer,
Her arms strained,
To hold the expanding mass.
She lost her grip,
It fell to the ground,
The whole stage shook,
The crowd disappeared,
She looked back at the award,
It was the size of her.
They were eye to eye.
Its eyes shot a blue flame,
Directly into her retina.

She opened her mouth,
To let out the pain,
But the golden man,
Took over the area.
She was crushed,
As thin as a piece of paper,
Against the wall,
A picture of her crossing the finish line,
Fell over her,
Her smile on the picture,
Falling over the yard long pancake,
That was her face.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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