The game you play
Tossed into the fray
Emotions and conduct
Both truly fucked
Beginning
With time
And death itself
Yes I see
My rhyme scheme cut
And so did my rhythm
Don’t worry
I noticed.
I’m not a poet
Maybe it’s all a part
Of the game I play
The trust given gone
Under a new dawn
Or maybe not
You thought
The middle
Strong
Weak
Does it matter?
The notes
In between
The poem
Yes
Yes
I get it
I’m sorry
I did it again
Rhythm gone
Rhyme scheme?
Lost
But the story?
Is it there?
Are you intrigued?
Oh, you’re not?
Well if you haven’t noticed
I’m not a poet
Maybe it’s all a part
Of the game I play
Time under the stress
You goddamn fucking mess
The destroyed sanity
You hide under vanity
End
But is it really?
No
No stop
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
You’re laughing?
With me?
At me?
Yes
Yes
I’m sorry
I apologize
The rhythm?
Fucked
Rhyme scheme?
Screwed
If you STILL haven’t noticed
I’m not a goddamn poet
Maybe it’s all a part
Of the game I play
The same one you play
It’s all a game
It’s all THE game
Ha
You know what game I’m talking about
What?
A Conclusion?
...
Fuck that