This Game

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  • Fantasy

    This Game

    With an inarticulate cry of rage,
    one young Vampire lunged at his victim,
    they grappled,
    tangled,
    and continued to struggle.
    The human defending himself,
    the Vampire learning to hunt,
    to kill,
    with a hunger to fulfill,
    as the need for human blood grows.
    The human blinking away tears,
    and the Vampire trying to ignite fears,
    no trouble on the horizon,
    only punishment for one another in this game,
    as the Vampire who hasn't really established a name,
    was kicking, punching, brawling,
    and the human was returning the blows without fear.
    Their arms and legs thrashing,
    hitting the floor and crashing,
    almost like a common street fight,
    The Vampire returned to his barbaric tradition,
    the human disdainfully did the same,
    no winners or losers would be left in this game.

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Atanacio’s Poems (43)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    In A Cool, Dry Place 0
    Masking Her Fate 2
    Complete The Beasts 0
    Souls Sang 2
    Guilty, And He Knew Why 0
    Eyes Smoldering 0
    Quiet The Cries 0
    A Slim Figure Rising 0
    He Sensed Defeat 0
    Calm Passed 0
    Marched Briskly 0
    Trinity Sunday 1
    He Stood In The Shadows 0
    Familiar Stranger 0
    Ocean Air 0
    Earthbound 1
    Into Glazed Eyes 0
    Proof Of God 1
    Peculiar Brush With Death 0
    State Rested 0
    No Sign Of Regret 0
    First Kiss 0
    Asphyxiation 0
    Condemnation 1
    Her Emotions Were Mummified 1
    No Kingdom Come 1
    Deck Red 0
    God's Eyes, Grim 1
    Floated To Heaven On A Dream 0
    Nothing More Than A Dream 0
    A Flamboyant Amber 0
    Life Fell Prey 0
    Emotions Sift 0
    The Silence Was Unnerving 0
    Die... 0
    This Game 0
    Only A Voice Mail 0
    A Flamboyant Amber 2
    Soft Kisses 1
    Ghost Shook Her Head 1
    Exhilarating Freedom 0
    Muted Chatter 0
    Putting Death On Hold 1