The Game
The declination of it all
Will it rise, or vastly fall
Potentially seeking your buried up past
Challenging you to recover your tracks
Face to face with the counterpart
Reckoned by the odds that tore you apart
Converging the circumstance, compounding the demon
Forcing what’s left of a spiteful kingdom
A serrated comeback; begging for regards
A normal moment of life, expanded, anticipating the system of playing your cards.
(2009)
This poem explains the impatience that comes with not knowing the outcome or what lies ahead.
