A Game With Death

Deep within the confines of my mind, I play a game with Death itself The pieces set, black against white, the game played a thousand times before I move the pawns to block the enemy line, and I feel a tinge of empathy The pawn and I, so alike, both pieces in someone else’s game, expendable The greater pieces, knights and rooks, bishops, and queens protect the king The King, the representation of my mind, if defeated so shall I fall The pawns charge and clear the way against the line of Death’s allies Reaching to the sky for their chance at glory, but stricken down before Death’s cold and brilliant moves seduce me, like a forbidden dance Haunting and frightening, but tempting all the same, I allow the moves The pieces fall like leaves from an autumn tree, a piece of me dies with them For this is no mere game I realize, but the struggle against the embrace of oblivion And I’m losing, the king backed into a corner, no way out with foes in pursuit The king in hopeless retreat moves further into defeat, and I tremble My hand reaches for something, could it be that I’ve succumbed to failure? I take the king in hand and it falls to its side, the match is forfeit to Death But as I offer my hand to him, embracing my fate, the phantom simply smiles A chill smile not seen, but felt in the heart, a stinging pain that told me his intent He would not take me to the afterlife, but abandon me to a life of pain and hardship Just like so many times before, the game played over the course of a lifetime And Death cheats every time, every loss becomes another chance for misery