The Game (A Villanelle)

Still, we fight and fight for more and more,

Trying to hold on to our possessions, but the possessions are the ones that bind.

Maybe the only way to win this game is to not keep score.

 

We keep fighting even if we don’t know what we’re fighting for.

Instead of looking for the light, maybe we should just shine.

Still, we fight and fight for more and more.

 

So busy sailing, trying to prove something, we don’t even know the shore.

So eager to win the world, but we haven’t even won our minds.

Maybe the only way to win this game is to not keep score.

 

The fight against each other is so warped, it’s just a blur.

The fight looking for answers is straining, we end up blind.

Still, we fight and fight for more and more.

 

Busy looking up to the winners, ourselves we never adore.

Busy looking at what we don’t have, all we do is whine.

Maybe the only way to win this game is to not keep score.

 

We try so hard to change the world, but never think to change our core.

Maybe comparing ourselves to others is apple to oranges, just another kind.

Still, we fight and fight for more and more,

Maybe the only way to win this game is to not keep score.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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