Diabolical

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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Amazon Author's Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dennis-S-Martin/e/B004SXY4LG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1394055582&sr=1-2-ent