a game that could be won

we’re slightly painted on
black lines across our face
bars across our skin
traced on in haste

prison was a war
one in which we made
the prison of the damned
who only lived to get paid

he told me ones he loved it
the chase
the fear-a race
but after a while he had enough – of only having a name

his face was hard to remember
the one he had before –
the scars were laced across it
of a privet war

he buckled in for impact
but never was there such a blow
as when the walls came pressing in
as he saw the gaps with-in his home

 he painted on the lines
in a worried haste
that someone would paint bars
so he’d rather the job be his

take him all the way back
to the days before
he waged himself a battle
his own privet war

when he was young –
or at least young enough
he saw his life as a game
so he needed to make a battle –  so as to make it a game that could be won


10 Comments Add yours

  1. Iwrite4u says:

    Lovely poem,well written!

    Three questions:
    1.Want your poems to be read by poets all around the world?
    2.Want feedback for your poems?
    3.Want friends who loves and shares poetry?

    If your answer is ‘Yes’ for all the above three questions,then do join us in our Rally at http://thursdaypoetsrallypoetry.blogspot.com/
    We are a team of poeters exploring and learning together !

  2. Jingle says:

    fabulous piece.

    youngsters do think of life as a game…

  3. Jingle says:

    Greetings, how are you? hope you well!
    Hope to see you in Poets Rally Week 38,

    Love your poetry talent and looking forward to a profound experience with your input.


  4. Melissa says:

    A unique poem for sure. Depth and soul. Thanks for sharing

  5. A.B. Thomas says:

    Nicely done – youth does have its little daliances of unreality

  6. Kim Nelson says:

    The wonder continues to be that as we age we realize it is not a game, it need not be competed, we can always win.

  7. dan says:

    Life is a game but we all hit the wall, some creeping, some speeding, and when the flag drops, it’s over. From start to finish it’s a battle, and no one gets to drive home.
    I liked your poem. Thanks for sharing.

  8. dc says:

    Sad and soulful 🙂

  9. your words inspire, well penned poem.

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