Twisted Game

What a twisted game I play,

Just me, myself, and I.

A game so quiet that no one knows,

It exists in my mind, and in my life.

What a twisted game,

I keep to myself.

The game before a mirror,

To pick out my flaws,

To see what I hate today,

What I would change.

What a twisted game of thought,

Where the words not said,

Become the words I thought.

No beauty, just ugly.

No thin, just fat.

Not funny, just sad.

Not strong, but weak.

Not good, never enough.

A sad little game of insults,

A sad little game of flaws,

A twisted game of the mind,

That I live with every day,

When I say I’m fine.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

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