Not Like I Wished For Any of This

Folder: 
November 2012

Time spent alone staring at a clock,

always back ordered, you're never in stock,

heart behind three locks and laser beams,

making sure you never settle or pick different teams,

 

not like i wished for me to still think,

that i had absolutely everything taken from me in a blink,

memories that stink like happiness and perfection,

poked and searched by unlawful inspection,

 

not like i wished for me to call and quickly,

hang up the call, have a random girl with me,

trying to kiss me, so i can feel something,

even with that attempt i still feel nothing,

 

what happened to the Summer and the memories made?

ran off into the horizon, away from me they fade,

life is a game played by many a person,

until it takes a turn for tragic and swiftly worsens.

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nightlight1220's picture

well, i don't think life is

well, i don't think life is always a game, but there are times that it seems it is that way for some people all the time...and this poem is a good representation of those times. kudos!


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

Silver__lining's picture

thanks for the read &

thanks for the read & comment

rereading this i still get the sense of the games played by some. 


can you hear me now?