Saturday, March 14, 2015

This Disastrous Game

Your eyes are the color of storm clouds
but without the life and energy.
Your tongue paints lies like sunflowers
and your heart knows no empathy.

Your armory boasts a wealth of masks
with which you catch your prey.
And when you've got your chains in place
you decide it's time to play.

This disastrous game has no name
but the pieces are the poor souls you caught.
Your tears become a hurricane
when you realize their love cannot be bought.

You cause pain without flinching.
Perhaps you were a warrior in another life.
There is a dead calm in your eyes
as you thrust in the poisoned knife.

You leave your victims for dead,
a single wound in their back,
as you run to the others
with lies of an attack.

(Written 3.14.15)

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