That's the Game

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
What exactly are we playing at here?

Submitted: January 07, 2007

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Submitted: January 07, 2007



That smile look at it.

A ravishing child full of unknowingly selfish desires.

The way she wants and yearns.


He whispers and snorts.

Laughing at the impact of his swing.

Only foolish once he mutters,

And goes back to the shame.


Wrinkled and forgotten.

Her song wrapped with agony.

The crown she wears, is running thin,

While becoming bare,

Altering the course.


They vanish into the room,

One hiding his smile.

The other covered in pain.

The people across the room,

Snickering in sync.

As the two men turn and part.


These actions and this thoughts,

Never fail to render,

As each implied gesture,

Builds itself on the game.

The game that’s been forged out of weakness,


And pain.

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