The game

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The school of life was always out there
but does not teach me how to play the game

Submitted: October 12, 2007

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Submitted: October 12, 2007

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My white hair shows me that the game of my life
is near to the end
And I am to old to be a good player.
The school of life was always out there
but does not teach me how to play the game
and now I wait for the life to finish the game for me
as no one can do it better.
Alone in my darkness I am looking for the light.
The light that shows me the way to the reality.
I am not sad for that.
There is no game without end.
Always if one game is over a new game waits to begin.
It just needs a player.
The next time I will know how to play better.
I hope.

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