The whole thing is just a game,

A game where the rules are very strict,

And ignorance of the rules is no excuse,

and you cannot even perceive the game.

The elite are given the rule book,

as part of their baby shower…

They are taught the game in the cradle.

So they can press their devious calls

In your face and you don’t even see it.

They laugh like drains as they mouth,

Vague epithets of sorrow at your loss,

Even as they arrange more sorrows.

The game is top heavy, the laws uneven.

You join in without hearing the whistle,

You are signed up to play,

Before you are even out of maternity.

The more you discover the rules of engagement,

The more your caste will tell you to ignore it,

Don’t make waves, change what you can…

I want to shout from rooftops,

You’re all being played like carp

Bread sprinkled across the surface

of your pool, all you can do is eat,

Catch your breath and hope they

Throw you back.

Will they play fair?

Ask the fox, the pheasant or the grouse.

They have a bloodlust,

But it’s only a game.

Dale M 2021

Published by dale.beck1@hotmail.com

I am a writer of words and a righter of wrongs. I aim to change the world, one person at a time.

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