Rock, Paper, Scissors.

THE GAME -
Remember rock, paper, scissors.
That innocent game we'd play.
Now the words hold different meaning
and the shame wont go away.

ROCK -
A closed fist used to block.
You used to be my rock.
Now I sit shaking and watching the clock.
Aching and breaking,
for a different rock.

PAPER -
An open hand used to save.
It broke my heart to watch yours wave.
My dreams go up in smoke with me behind flame and vapour.
I'll beg, steal and borrow
do anything to score the paper.

SCISSORS.
Chopping fingers used to cut.
I've severed all my ties.
As I fall from euphoria into the abyss
no one ever hears my cries.
As the steal sizzles and the liquid fizzes
I see myself as a child
running with scissors.

THE RESULT
You don't play games anymore.
Not since my mind fell off it's hinges.
Still, I play one of my own called
Rock, Spoon, Syringes.

THE END

J.E.P Wilson