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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1970682-Game-of-Dirt
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by Krum Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Other · Dark · #1970682
There comes a time when Man must trade dreams for a chance to leave a mark.
Upon amassing a year at a time,
Possible through caution for health and faith.

I have finally reached the fork in the road,
Where many worlds have buckled and fallen.
To the breaths of Man's own freedom,
To choose the road towards its end.
An End of pain or peace,
An End of strong resolve or bitter regret.

I have finally reached the fork in the road,
Where my Child's fantasies lay before me.
Fighting the tepid nature of my mind.
Sprinting across the boundary separating the living and the dead.
In danger of being nothing more than a wandering spirit,
My shadow like Past on Future's end.

My Child's fantasy lies in waiting,
Twisted from the struggles of Desire and Dread.
Though held on one chain atop a tilting platform,
They fight bitterly on the whims of fools.
Until the platform falls from its zenith,
Settling the conflict once and for all.

For no victors are declared in this game,
A game where dreams are set as wagers.
I am the dealer and the player.
Shuffling the deck for another to come along and do the same.
To deal 52 cards I regress to a beast,
Rubbing the spoils on my muddy scales.

This child of mine watches not in fear,
But in remorse as I venture the swamps.
Chasing flesh instead of dreams,
A process that I will sorely repent.
Like I chose, God makes his.
Cutting the legs from under my belly.

Now that I am reduced to a snake.
Let the Game of Dirt commence.
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