The Misunderstood

A selection of skinny thoughts presented in black dots on a piece of paper?


41. The Game

This life is nothing but a game. I am the counter piece and you the game master. You control me. Your opponent is the other side of me. The side that I'm afraid to be. Every move I make is a matter of failing or succeeding. I'm getting closer to the finish line but I don't think I have the final fight left in me. It seems the closer I get the more the rules change. I started out so confident, so eager and ready but the falls I took along the way dented my faith. Each time I pick myself back up and brush myself off ready to fight again. Since when did this all become a game? Who gave you the right to control me? Why was I the counter piece you chose to play? I'm full of these endless questions and the answers haunt me; I know I'll never get them. I'd be more lucky to marry Martin Luther king or be the founder of chess! Luck that's a funny thing.. Never been a lucky one me, maybe it's time the gods look down on me and decide to be kind. It's long overdue I'd say, wouldn't you? I talk away hoping for a reply but really this is just a shout into the void; a search for help, nobody is really listening.. Could you do me a favour dear? End this game?

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