The game

Heart ache.
Denied.
Cut off.
But it was fun,
For the moment.
And now with my stomach,
Sinking further down
Towards the floor.
Not guilt,
Not regret either.
You tell me,
You don’t think I
Respect
Myself? Who are you to judge?
I just want to have
Fun
I want to play the
Game
Respect has become a
Lame
Thought not associated with a good time,
Or feeling the rhyme,
Of situations
current and past.
My skin burns without the
Empty interaction,
The traction,
My heart doesn’t have when it tries to
Run.
Because I like having
fun.
How can you learn if you don’t play the
Game?
The skill of cutting out
Emotion
Mixing tonic, and
Potion.
This witch craft, like
“baby get back under the blanket, there’s a draft”
and now we’re left with a post emoti-mortum
style,
empty and
vile.
Its checking my phone,
Wondering if you changed your mind,
But to change you have to
Decide.
And nothing is final,
Only emotionally lame.
Because all we know,
Is how to play
The Game.





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