"Its just a game,"
Is what you say,
"and that's all it'll ever be."

But I beg to differ,
Because you're wrong.
And here's why- you see:

A game is made
             of a story.
And stories are often
                      an incredible thing.
                                  And by this logic, I do believe
                                                         ­                this makes a game
                                                            ­           worth playing.

And you may insult me as you wish,
because after all, "It's just a game."

But sometimes what you think is lame,

Is where others' imagination came

And went and made

A beautiful game,

For all the world
            to see
                   and play.

As the ball hit the stone
The sound resonated
Throughout the room

I had already scratched
Another mark into the wall
To signify that
Another day had passed

But somehow
It felt like no time
Had passed at all

I was lonely
And every day
Felt like the same day
Because nothing
Ever happened

I'm just locked
Inside a room
And I'm alone

And I am lonely

I wish I could at least
Have some kind
Of company,
At least
So I wouldn't
Be alone

But sometimes
It's even too much
To ask
For something
Like that

My words are always
Just my opinion
And sometimes
I'm happy that it just is

During conversations,

While the topic is about me
I can't help but talk poorly
About anything
That I can
About myself

When the topic is about another
I can't help but praise
Anything
That I can
About them

My opinion of myself
Is different
Than the opinion of others

They say I am kind
That I am helpful
That I care

I do care
I want to be kind
I want to be helpful

They say I am
I can't believe that it's the truth

I want to know
That they're lying
That they just want me
To believe that I am
The person they make me out to be

But I know they're not
And I can't help but smile
At just the thought of that

Everywhere I go
They say the same things
And it makes me happy
To know that I'm not the person
I think I am

Just knowing
That I'm kind
And that I'm helpful
Is enough for me
To know I'm a good person

I walked
Down the stairs,
Deciding
That the elevator
Would take
Too long
And just be
A waste
Of my time

The day was done
Nothing else
Was left
For me to do

All I needed
To do
Was go home

I stopped by
The receptionist's desk

With brown eyes
And red hair,
She smiled at me
And I smiled back

Those beautiful glasses
In front of those wonderful eyes

I stopped to wonder
How I hadn't noticed her before

It's probably
Because I've been busy

I don't have time
To mingle

But maybe once
I could take some time
To talk
With this wonderful woman
Behind this wooden desk

It could be nice
To spend time
With someone else,
But I'll never know
If I never try

I always like to imagine
But some times it's better
To live it

Slowly
He walks

It's not like
Anything is making him
Have to go faster
Than he is going

Frail bones shake and tremble as they move
A weak smile is on a wrinkled face

He sits
Unsure of what to do
Getting from one place to another
Is not quite exciting

A lamp hangs above him
And he looks up at the light
It is warm
It is soothing

The room is quiet and lonely
No one is seen but him
As he sits beneath the light
A golden glow shines upon him

The youth has been drained from his being
But not from his eyes
Or his smile
Or his laughter
Or his voice

He is happy
He is smiling
Though he is lonely
He feels content

The light continues to shine
The man continues to stare
He waits
Until the light flickers
And is gone
But he is still smiling
He is still content

Just because you're alone
Doesn't mean you can't be happy

There’s a knock on the door
You’re scared to go near
The sounds of the knocking
Is all that you hear

The room was silent
And once it was calm
But then came the knocking
And you realized
You were wrong

You walk up to the door
And peek through the hole
But to your surprise
There’s no one to behold

You open the door
And look down at the step
There’s no one to see
But there’s something they’ve left

A gift wrapped in green
With a bow that is red
You don’t pick it up
But you wonder instead

You pick up the box
And place it inside
When you open the lid
There’s quite a surprise

The present you’re given
Makes you smile quite wide
I wonder what it was
That that person
Placed inside

I pick up the items
Littering the floor
They didn’t mean much
To anyone
Anymore

I stared at the picture
Hanging on the wall
I was the smallest
And my brother was tall

I looked back at objects
Flat on the ground
One caught my attention
While it just laid around

I picked up the radio
Thin sleek and black
I turned it right on
And the memories came back

The music that played
Was not the same in the past
But the radio still counted
At least the memory surpassed