Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Game Time

By
It is measued in black eyes
and bloodied knuckles.
We don't keep score:
There are no winners.
Only the already bloodied up
and those about to be.

We're bleeding like breathing,
All pumped up and seething.
Just one to the face,
Square in the jaw.
The harder you hit,
The harder they fall.

Every ounce we bleed
Closer to the freedom we need.
For that which we've reaped
Is that which we've sown,
And our knuckles lay bare
For the punches we've thrown.

So welcome to the game.
We don't ask your name.
Just for your vanity,
Never for your silence
Just pay up the price
For the crouching violence.

It is measued in black eyes
and bloodied knuckles.
We don't keep score:
There are no winners.
Only the already bloodied up
and those about to be.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback