I used to win.
I’d win all the time.
Now it has come
Few and far between.
***
I stopped winning
When my childhood ended.
When I realized
The insignificance of it all.
***
Or perhaps it was
A specific moment in time.
When my grandfather
Decided not to show.
***
I used to win.
I’d win all the time.
Now it feels a foreign thought,
An indescribable emptiness.
***
The rarity of winning
Is not celebrated.
Not anymore.
It is just a target.
***
It has become a reason
To pull each other down.
To entice jealousy.
To forget morals.
***
Not that winning,
Was ever good for
The other team.
No one likes to lose.
***
But we all do.
All the time,
Not in a pessimistic way.
In a realistic way.
***
I understand how it works.
We can’t all win.
Certainly not when
The world is aflame.
About the Creator
KB
A snippet of life. Some real, some not. Thanks for reading!
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.