The Game

One day, instead of wallowing in self pity and pain,
You will play the game,

Realize tomorrow's and yesterday's had nothing to do with today,
But Brilliant illusions; Smoke and mirrors.

The fears that were yours, were only mole hills,
That hid from your view the mountain's, of others.

The foolish coward you are, know that thing
Kept chained in your mind,

Free, will consume, in its fiery frenzy, not only your fears,
But also those crafted plans.

But you will learn, to
Embrace the ones you love, hold on to them,
For whatever little time, to come.

The terror of the streets,
Congregate in its halls,
Frightening, the display of strength,

Singles, unseeingly in groups,
Aggregate and mob,
Burning the light for the moths,

Oh, the unspeakable terror,
The travails of the matrimonial massacre,
Called, 'meet' seemingly by innocent error.

The pleasure of wandering, to the aimless
Is never so dearer when kept busy,

The harder the mind dawdles,
Nearer, to the point of breaking,

Finally, reality starts coming apart at its seams.