My Issue with Chess

I can’t do this anymore.

I flip the chessboard off the table and stare at my brother’s shocked face.

Everyday he asks me to play chess.

Everyday I say no.

Today, for some random reason I said yes.

Maybe it was the pitiful way he was sitting at the table alone staring at his board.

He moved the pieces around as if playing an invisible opponent.

I couldn’t stand watching him that way.

We started playing and I remembered why I don’t play chess.

Why do they move so weird.

Why can’t I put the pieces where I want them.

I look at my brother. He’s having fun playing with me.

I thought maybe I could put up with these stupid rules for a while longer but I can’t.

This sucks! I can’t.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741