Life is a game of chess. In other words,
we will play until the king is put to rest.
Life is a game of 21. In other words,
we can hit or stand without knowing
the dealer’s plan. Life is a game of Risk.
In other words, take out your sword,
prepare for war and kick down a door.
Life is a game of dice. In other words,
some will shoot twice without thinking.
Life is a game of wins, losses, ties, tears,
blood, sweat, love, pain, hope, and loss.
In other words, take what’s yours,
love from the core and be a boss.
As life gets heavier,
my grip naturally tightens.
I am playing tug of war,
and on the other side
of the rope is the fear
that I lose all hope.
I am always trying
to stay grounded when
my mind is flying.
I am trying to live
instead of thinking
of death or dying.
When I try to pull,
I feel that the hole
in my soul becomes
filled: almost full.
In this life, I tug, tug,
and tug. I attempt to
stand on top of a rug
that is being pulled
from under me. See,
these rope burns
come easy. I won’t
slip or lose my grip
until the sweet taste
of victory drips off
of my quivering lips.
In life, we hide the things
we don’t want others to see.
At the start, the end seemed
far. At the end, we couldn’t
tell the two apart. In life,
we seek, search, and want
things and people
out of reach. Life can be
a game of hide and seek.
Some disappear as quickly
as others appear. Some stay
still and are scared to move.
Some dance despite the mood.
In the end, we will find
all that has been hidden.
In the meantime, find time
to unwind as you release
all the things on your mind.
All work and no play makes Jack
a dough boy, but a dull one at that.
With no time to play, Jack will still
talk shop on the way to the shop.
Jack plays no games. Jack came,
he saw, and he worked. The same
thing everyday. Jack forgot how to
play. Nevertheless, he does his best
to work harder than the rest. Yes,
Jack has lost his way. He forgot
who he was but also remembered
that he must get back to work.
Jack doesn’t have time to think.
For that, he is a very dull boy
who doesn’t feel very much joy.
Man, I didn’t just drop the ball,
I spiked that baby. I threw it
down like Shaq. Did I mean to?
No. The ball didn’t seem to fit
the mitt. The ball was heavy;
I was thought to be strong,
but that thought was wrong.
I didn’t really want the ball.
I just happen to stumble upon
it. I did pick it up after all.
At the end of the day, I picked
up the same ball I dropped.
There is no reason to rant;
I’ll dribble the ball till’ I can’t.