The Game

December 12, 2008
By Anonymous

Every day is always the same,
As if we were playing a cruel game.
The twist and turns of life,
But the game is a never ending cycle.
Like riding over the same bridge on a bicycle.
The game ends far to fast,
The challenge is to last.
Poor little boy didn't know what was coming,
Until the killer was gone, running.
The boy had said the wrong thing,
About the killers stupid brain.
The killer got mad,
And the poor little boy didn't think it was that bad.
The boys final twist and turn ended,
When the boy stood up and defended.
Everyone saw what happened.
The poor little boy being tossed around like a toy.
Until finally he said it wasn't enough.
And then it was even more rough.
Defending someone could be hard,
But honestly all it takes is some heart!

The author's comments:
I was inspired to write this poem because i think about all those people who just stands around and see people getting hurt, harassed, and ect. and NO ONE ever stands up with them and or for them.

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