Cruel Games

Fate plays cruel games,
while laughing at my back 
as I, with withering hopes,
lose my grip
on the rope  I’m forced to climb.

I am scooped from the comfort
of my obscurity and tossed,
like a handful of jacks
given the illusion of freedom,
while hanging on the mercy 
of a bouncing ball

My alleys are all thrown into the ring
to the call of keepsies, no-quitsies,
with nothing to hide behind,
while fate knuckles down
with a steely
 
I am forced to do as Simon says,
but Simon does not play fair;
I am marching to the music
but there's far too few chairs;
Red Rover sends me over
but the chain will never break,
I’ll just have the wind knocked from my sails
and be consumed,
another unsuspecting soul
for the take.

	

august 2007
Janet Reid





Awarded by New Horizons