Poetry of hatred heart

.5

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

Once when I was running,
From the dark days that haunted me.
I said "This game must be easy,
I need a strategic plan come hurry and save me."

All the poets went to die,
even the protagonist of the story dissappeared as flies.
Meeting you here is an accident,
It was fun gasoline-rainbow oil translucent.

We're here at the end game stage,
The dead end of the short story sad end.
I made you my sun, the moon and a star,
Now I'm begging for a bright light.
Insurmountable grief and utterly grimly,
Nobody notices us when we leave,
'Surely'

All twisted game, time and effort,
Must be done nothing, cannot be affort!
Those whispers waves undulated down,
"Hello, what's up, you doin?!" soon we'll be alright and be fine.

A fine line to the both of us, A different path way of success and happiness in life.
Someday we walk into it, Or maybe you'll go pass by it?

I remember,
The Epistle I've wrote a month ago,
I put some things on it about you.
The Confession has been remain unsaid,
Even the apology symphaty of one self.
The reality turns to some realization,
Your name scream from this cruel destination.

The time and Idea of this game,
You' ll maybe seen it if you win or you lose,
Only if you really gonna read this kind of sad ending thoughts.

©2022
_perksofbeingkaito