Wielding (s)words are weapons
Silence cuts deep
Awakening old wounds
festering the fresh and tender
Evil banters between minds
clearing a playground
Tilling the soil
In wait for what we render
Vulnerability proves I’m weak
A stage lures a roleplay
Simmering flavors blend
Like oregano and cumin
Remnants of a fallen crown
Like ants whose nest is splintered
In frenzy
Take advantage that I’m human
As a playwright edits script
To reach a certain end
Characters receive their part
Rehearsing till they know
The final war has been won
I can play each side
Listening to the fallen
Or take my stand
Beside the victor’s throne
Glo/napowrimo.net day 16. A day behind. Today’s prompt fit into yesterdays efforts. Write a poem about some sort of game, child’s game or life game or mind games. My mind can be a playground.
mehflowers 