Their games are rigged.
There is no way to win.
Programmed into cyberspace,
abysmal twists and turns of fate
perform the reckoning.
One to two with nothing in
The god of corruption invaded their dreams.
Power stole the meaning from
the hours of their belief.
They feasted in the darkness that they held,
while precious gems were melting in the snow.
Bells were ringing, sounding
Unseen, the harm was riding high
within their chosen sighs of deep depression.
Claiming all the best to be their own.
Projecting blame away from hearth and home.
Sick, the silent wandering.
Alone, the center of the dream
began to scream their names.
All the windows disappeared.
Insanity was drawing near.
The padded walls grew spikes of infamy.
Closing in, the rush and rage
of stormy seas was gathering in them.
Fire flared, the mist was glaring red.
Another game. The loss recorded.
Playing isn't any fun at all...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .