Scrabble

July 9, 2012
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I feel like a game of Scrabble
All these sounds trapped in a box
I need to find words
I know some hold more value than others
This is a game where
“I’m sorry,” will earn you no points
While “I’m here for you,” should surely fair better
But it doesn’t
I was thinking of that last text message
And they looked at me as if lost in my own little world
Smiling, they'll ask,“Is it nice there?”
No
It is a world filled with hate and neglect
With too little respect
Where love
Will get you nowhere
It doesn’t matter
So close your eyes
Pretend it’s not there
But you’ll still hear the sound
Of the rape and the war
Every heart beginning to pound
The downpour
That waters the streets
Are tears
Every single one of them years
Lost
In my world
It is yours too
As real as the blue
On her lips when it’s simply too cold
When even the kindness is sold
For drugs
For liquor
For skulls even thicker
They don’t want to know
Get it through your head
And not by my losing hand
I’m tired of putting the pieces together
If only written in that text was the letter
I need to complete what I’m trying to say
That way
We could quit playing this game
Of Scrabble





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