Game set and loose.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Like a virus to my system it spreads.
Starts in my brain and slowly grows.
Blossoms....

Submitted: January 10, 2012

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Submitted: January 10, 2012

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Like a virus to my system it spreads.

Starts in my brain and slowly grows.

Blossoms.

Feeds on my weak heart.

Winners know no end.

But I’m a quitter so I meet my end.

It’s a game set and…loose.

It’s a small world I live in.

Others might say it’s a big world.

I say it’s a small world

I’m a small world.

My pain is my small comfort.

Infecting and plaguing all it touches.

Like a game it calls no quite.

Clouded and infested.

Shallow breathes of wonder.

Dying in ecstasy.

Plagued with doubt and dread.

Slowly fading…slowly dying.

Giving in to an uneasy conscience.

Life’s no game for the faint at heart.

Thinking “who cares about you? I’m thinking for me now”.

Drifting into the pits of darkness.

Going to a place where living is only known through death.

 

Growing full through my lost.

Giving in to my pain.

Giving birth to my gain.

 

Shedding off all my waste.  

 

Giving chance to my doubt.

Grieving now cause I’m proud.

Giving up cause I’m dumb.

Thinking of what could’ve been…


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