The Game of Life
In this weird game of Kings and Pawns,
Battles are won, battles are lost.
It’s the rich and wealthy who ultimately rule;
While the rest are mere serfs and thralls.
It does not really matter who you are –
Whether lofty or lowly, mighty or czar
Black or white, pauper or star,
Or which side you are on; in this game of life.
You have to leave the stage, you have to die.
And while you rest in the wooden box, you see
the same kings and pawns, now in par
Feeling the same bruises, having the same scars.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
