Game Over : the first poem

Game Over

I sit here, wondering if i'll recover. If i'll recover from your vile, putrid actions. You have made me who i am today. You've turned me into my own enemy. I spew out dark radiation like i'm Hades, dark and doubtful. I lurk around and devour the thoughts of inspiration. I tear apart the glory of Olympians only to watch them cry in helplessness at the shreds of their masterpieces.

You, on the other hand, stalk your prey with those stone cold, glassy eyes of yours. You've shown no mercey from the beginning. And i can't beleive that i fell for your little act of remourse.

Although i'll be the first to fall in this battle of hate, it doesn't make you my ruler. This feat won't give you the strength to be my puppeteer.

It does however, give you the ability to say that you've stooped so low as to never be awarded my love again!

Game Over!