Sit down, my friend, let’s play a game together:
A simple game that certainly will win
Your charm, and end these days of gloomy weather;
Indeed to pass this chance would be a sin.
How does one play? My friend, just simply spin;
For ’tis a game of chance, no more, no less,
Such surely is of most delight to win,
Though losers, always sore, make quite the mess.
So spin my friend, like that – those clicking sounds
Incite excitement – don’t you think it so?
Where will that bolt of fortune end its rounds?
That terror in your eye… you think you know?
Don’t worry, friend, that fear won’t long harangue;
For if you go, you’ll go out with a bang.
It’s the hunger games… and I’m not talking about the ones where kids are expected to act as savages. There’s one sticky bun left in the pan and three people that want to eat it. How will this end?
Lots of people don’t know the game.
Luckily you can figure it out, earn the knowledge. Some are even born naturals.
But as more & more people enlighten themselves, the power of individuality increases. Therefore you need a balance. Then you’ll be golden.
I’ve been playing the game of chance and absurdity long enough to know, I’m as senseless as I feared I would be. It’s not enough to know this. My head shall bear that knowledge for the rest of my future deceptions
games are fun. I just lost ‘the game.’ Most games need to be played with friends or family. Games include Monopoly, Tag, Hide and seek, Cards, and more. I like games
I like to play games with boys. I don’t know what it is about the thrill of having a new guy wrapped around my finger, wanting to take me on dates, flattering me, but it’s nice. It’s fun to be admired and thought pretty, and to have your jokes laughed at and be called witty. But I feel bad when I break another heart, or hurt another human. My pain wears off after a bit, but I don’t like to think about theirs.
Terri ran along the brick wall, panting with the exertion. Exhaustion was closing in, but he dared not stop. An arrow whizzed by his head and shattered on the stone, sending splinters everywhere. The enemy was coming. Coming quickly.
“Some game ….” he panted.
It had started out as one. It certainly wasn’t one anymore.
I saw the game the ducks play earlier. You get out of your car and they swarm you hoping for some food. I just walked on past, assuming the rum fruitcake in my bag would not be suitable. I enjoyed a crisp wintery walk in their park just the same.
lay your palm over my heart,
and we will play pretend
that your teeth aren’t red
and your breath isn’t fading
that love is our messiah
or that we still have time
to go back to the very start.
the game plan was to be the very best me and then I met him and the game plan was to be the very best wife, and then I found there were many and the game plan was to be the best one, and I failed I never was what the game plan called for.
I stare at my phone screen, as if looking at the words will make them change, make them go away. Complete disbelief fills me for sheer, silent moments, where the only sound is that of my heart thumping.
He was playing a game. She waited for him to return, to love her, to remember and appreciate her. And he did. But he was playing a game. He didn’t love her, but she thought he did. She was caught up in his game, a never ending chain of heartbreak.
Many people think they have it, but most don’t. I propose starting “Project Save a Player” because of the lack of game many men have. Hopefully it will save some, maybe not all, but otherwise we are doomed to endure disgusting leers and hopeless requests to date men who are horrible at it.
I don’t feel like playing
Your silly reindeer games
All this pushing and bucking
Makes my hooves go quite lame
I don’t play with Rudolf
Nose candy is his friend
His nose glows from his blow
Santa can’t keep him penned
It’s mischievous and doesn’t judge, just allows you to respawn. You live forever, you cannot die, you could kill yourself for eternity. You are stuck in the imagination of your character, of the designer, of this infinitely cyclical reality.
Exciting, involving you and your friends, a lot of laughter, competition, memories. Prizes.
It can be a football match, beer, bar
Olympics, pride for the country, stress, happiness, relief,
And then I thought, why limit myself? It’s not like anyone’s watching. It’s not like there is anyone who gives a shit if what I do sucks before what I do fucking blows minds into a brilliant multi color putty.
The game was on. It was a ruthless one. No one got physically hurt but many were capable of getting hurt. The master stood up and called for all to be prepared. In a moment’s time, another one would be called to sacrifice the ultimate sacrifice.
Why is this word the same? Why must I play the same old game? I guess last time I thought that I was flying on a plane from mondays disaster to tuesdays flame I was really trapped in wednesdays ever lasting shame of always submitting to other days blame.
Sit down, my friend, let’s play a game together:
A simple game that certainly will win
Your charm, and end these days of gloomy weather;
Indeed to pass this chance would be a sin.
How does one play? My friend, just simply spin;
For ’tis a game of chance, no more, no less,
Such surely is of most delight to win,
Though losers, always sore, make quite the mess.
So spin my friend, like that – those clicking sounds
Incite excitement – don’t you think it so?
Where will that bolt of fortune end its rounds?
That terror in your eye… you think you know?
Don’t worry, friend, that fear won’t long harangue;
For if you go, you’ll go out with a bang.
It’s the hunger games… and I’m not talking about the ones where kids are expected to act as savages. There’s one sticky bun left in the pan and three people that want to eat it. How will this end?
Lots of people don’t know the game.
Luckily you can figure it out, earn the knowledge. Some are even born naturals.
But as more & more people enlighten themselves, the power of individuality increases. Therefore you need a balance. Then you’ll be golden.
I’ve been playing the game of chance and absurdity long enough to know, I’m as senseless as I feared I would be. It’s not enough to know this. My head shall bear that knowledge for the rest of my future deceptions
games are fun. I just lost ‘the game.’ Most games need to be played with friends or family. Games include Monopoly, Tag, Hide and seek, Cards, and more. I like games
I like to play games with boys. I don’t know what it is about the thrill of having a new guy wrapped around my finger, wanting to take me on dates, flattering me, but it’s nice. It’s fun to be admired and thought pretty, and to have your jokes laughed at and be called witty. But I feel bad when I break another heart, or hurt another human. My pain wears off after a bit, but I don’t like to think about theirs.
Terri ran along the brick wall, panting with the exertion. Exhaustion was closing in, but he dared not stop. An arrow whizzed by his head and shattered on the stone, sending splinters everywhere. The enemy was coming. Coming quickly.
“Some game ….” he panted.
It had started out as one. It certainly wasn’t one anymore.
I saw the game the ducks play earlier. You get out of your car and they swarm you hoping for some food. I just walked on past, assuming the rum fruitcake in my bag would not be suitable. I enjoyed a crisp wintery walk in their park just the same.
{five; game}
lay your palm over my heart,
and we will play pretend
that your teeth aren’t red
and your breath isn’t fading
that love is our messiah
or that we still have time
to go back to the very start.
the game plan was to be the very best me and then I met him and the game plan was to be the very best wife, and then I found there were many and the game plan was to be the best one, and I failed I never was what the game plan called for.
good thing to do..to hve fun.play.weed,need for speed.playstaton.potfarm.to be stoned while playing
Stop.
Just stop it.
Stop playing with me like this.
I don’t want to play your stupid game anymore.
It hurts.
Dammit, it hurts.
Please…just stop…
Please stop…
I stare at my phone screen, as if looking at the words will make them change, make them go away. Complete disbelief fills me for sheer, silent moments, where the only sound is that of my heart thumping.
He was playing a game. She waited for him to return, to love her, to remember and appreciate her. And he did. But he was playing a game. He didn’t love her, but she thought he did. She was caught up in his game, a never ending chain of heartbreak.
love is not a game, im tired more than ever of being treated like some prize
game
Many people think they have it, but most don’t. I propose starting “Project Save a Player” because of the lack of game many men have. Hopefully it will save some, maybe not all, but otherwise we are doomed to endure disgusting leers and hopeless requests to date men who are horrible at it.
I don’t feel like playing
Your silly reindeer games
All this pushing and bucking
Makes my hooves go quite lame
I don’t play with Rudolf
Nose candy is his friend
His nose glows from his blow
Santa can’t keep him penned
It’s mischievous and doesn’t judge, just allows you to respawn. You live forever, you cannot die, you could kill yourself for eternity. You are stuck in the imagination of your character, of the designer, of this infinitely cyclical reality.
Exciting, involving you and your friends, a lot of laughter, competition, memories. Prizes.
It can be a football match, beer, bar
Olympics, pride for the country, stress, happiness, relief,
And then I thought, why limit myself? It’s not like anyone’s watching. It’s not like there is anyone who gives a shit if what I do sucks before what I do fucking blows minds into a brilliant multi color putty.
The game was on. It was a ruthless one. No one got physically hurt but many were capable of getting hurt. The master stood up and called for all to be prepared. In a moment’s time, another one would be called to sacrifice the ultimate sacrifice.
Why is this word the same? Why must I play the same old game? I guess last time I thought that I was flying on a plane from mondays disaster to tuesdays flame I was really trapped in wednesdays ever lasting shame of always submitting to other days blame.