Weird Game

by Joe atRR




I'd like to explain
about a complaint
I have with a being
some call a saint.

He plays with people's minds
and fills them with hope.
He gives them an excuse
to join his sick joke.

I see the ruins
that were left from his wrath.
He captured my heart;
it was lying in his path.

He gave her to me
to say 'Not this time.'
I look in her eyes
and wonder 'Why?'

Why join together
our lonely hearts?
Why unite two souls
to tear them apart?

Yes, Fate,
my bone is with you!
Why make our hearts one
to rend it in two?

Why lock together
my gaze with hers
to take away mine
and give her another's?

Why show us the world
to *whisp* it away?
Why make it all collapse
within a few days?

Why steal our hearts,
our souls, and our minds,
to play stupid games
with your childish kind?

Why tell us we can,
and we have a shot,
to refuse us the chance,
and reply 'Maybe not...'?

Why give us a lee
when the wind starts to blow
then throw us out
when it begins to snow?

Why say the word 'love,'
while thinking 'pique'?
Why say it's 'forever,'
while thinking 'next week'?

Why nurture a heart
to slice through its veins?
Then stitch it together
to repeat the pain?

I need only to see
a cynic disproven.
It won't be soon,
that is a given.

There's nothing I want more
than, with my own eyes, to see.
So, now I ask of you,
let this Weird Game end with me.


Copyright 06/16/2000 by Joe atRR

You may contact the author with comments at joeatrr@yahoo.com



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