It must have been a demon who
Made
up this game and named it love.
All
the crafted twists and turns
As
subtle innuendo burns
Life's
incense slowing smoldering
And
you're left standing, shouldering
The
weight of the entire world,
Another
lesson sadly learned.
The
field is never level, without
Bevel
or uncertainty,
And
we are left to ponder
As
we wander across open seas.
It's
all so diabolical
Steeped
in psychological
Mind
games between physical
Opponents
biological.
Crushing
blows than weaken will,
Broken
egos slow to heal,
As
curtains open to reveal
Emotions
we're not meant to feel.
Though
obstacles block every mile
Still
the journey is worthwhile.
And
we make it willingly,
For
that's the way it's meant to be.
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