the games we play
Matt Turner
the silly little games we play,
we annoy each other, and yet
kill each other with our love.
you shout and scream and I stare
at you, as though you were a ghost,
looking through you to your proud centre.
I do not reply, nor do you give me reason to,
everything is black and white,
with frilly lace around the sides.
I wonder, as I analyse other people,
as to what they think of us, whether
they understand us, or perhaps if they hate us.
i suppose we can be a deadly duo,
when you take into account,
the manipulative intelligence of us on our own
but then together, we do not seek to annoy,
but we let others grow green,
that is annoyance enough to most.
one day, one of us will die,
and they will signal the end for both,
because despite all the tears and decibels
we need each other,
we depend on each other,
we are each other.
