The Game

That I’m not really here at all,
It’s not spring springing into fall,
Forsaken they can’t do anything,
No prayer not on this kind of wing.

I would be afraid if I could,
Can’t fear what I think’s too good,
My judgment tied circling my soul,
It’s me but I don’t know my role.

I listen and watch most intently,
My cat sits, his name is Bentley,
He watches me watch what’s coming,
His stillness of body mind numbing.

I wonder at life being so broken,
My mind’s fogged as if it’s unwoken,
Where am I’m going right up ahead,
A vampire waits waiting undead.

Write poetry quick and forgotten,
Before sun’s rays burn it to rotten,
I’m going to try trying to belong,
To where my words sing singing in song.

Smiles and nods in cascades,
Showers of joy laid down in spades,
I’ll play playing like I know the game,
Cause around me they too are the same.