Ok, this is my first attempt at poetry in close to a decade. Enjoy. =)

The room was dark, now it is light,
A man is there now, he's dressed in white,
He walks up and stares in my eyes,
"Tell me what I want. Make me surprised."

"I'm tied to a chair. Please don't do this",
He pulls out a gun. "You think I'll miss?"
He takes the gun and points it right at me,
"I want to know where it is and I want to know quickly."

"You've got the wrong man. I swear!"
"Look in my eyes. Do you think I care?"
"You have ten seconds to tell me where it is, starting now."
All I can feel is the sweat rolling off my brow.

"One. You got something to say?"
"Look, I don't know, okay?"
"Two. Where the hell is it?"
"Just let me think for a bit."

"Three. This is going nowhere."
"I promise I'm not lying to you. Fair?"
"Four... Forget it, I'm trying something else."
"Let me make some calls. See if that helps."

He tossed the gun away and reached in his pocket,
I closed my eyes and half-expected him to cock it.
He holds out his hand and in them is a pair of pliers,
"I don't like being treated like a fool. Don't be a liar."

He places the pliers on one of my teeth and I start to cry,
"Five. Trust me, David, that ain't how you want to die."
"Please. I don't know what you want to know."
"Oh, I think you do, and I'm going to make this slow."

"I'll do my best to help you get this fixed."
"I don't want your help. I want an answer. Six."
He takes the pliers and tightens the clamp on my tooth.
"Sorry, kid, but this ain't going to go smooth."

"Seven. All I want to know is where it is."
The grip on my tooth is tight and it begins to twist.
He rips the tooth and I hear a CRACK!
My vision starts to blur, then fades to black.

When I wake, I feel the pain.
"Let him get some novocaine."
They shoot me up but the pain still lingers.
My focus is on my tooth, but I see he holds up eight fingers.

"Now, it's nine, so tell me the truth..."
"Or, trust me when I say, 'I'll pull another tooth'."
"Look in my eyes. I swear I don't know!"
"Guess what? I'm still going to make this slow."

"That's ten. Any last words, Dave?"
"I guess I'm just someone God wouldn't save."
"Whatever words seem to work for you."
One of his guys hands him a gun, as if on cue.

He trains the gun right on my head.
At this point, I'm better off dead.
"It really hurts me right now that you're my brother."
"Yeah? Whatever you say, you mother--" GUNSHOT.

The end.

Great read!

oh nice, a story told in a form of a poem.
A very visual poem!! As opposed to poems about feelings and divine stuff that turns your brain into a mush.

I thought it was going to be a sex story when I reached the second verse, how you were tied to a chair. But it's not, phew))

although that one would have been interesting too.