What I Needed To Say

We are the game they play.
The old, overplayed game on the top shelf.
Flimsy cardboard unfit for a board game.
Ages ten and up.
Falling apart and dirty.
It’s on the shelf nobody can reach without a struggle.
Standing on your tip-toes on a chair is the only way.

We are the pieces,
Colorful slender and tall minions.
Obedient and stripped of free-will.
We do not understand
Why we do what we do,
Go where we go,
Say what we say.
We cannot rebel against the rules.
We simply cannot manipulate our way,
Cheating and backstabbing,
Until it is complete.
No, we are not cheaters.
Still, it consumes us.
Breaking our once-passionate spirits.
Our spirits that could once demolish the Great Wall of China,
Together.
No loophole can save us now.
The rules are far too precise to make mistakes.

This game is far too complex,
With its many twists and turns.
It’s overflowing with contradictory limitations.
Our chipping paint and slowly breaking bodies show
We are just as worn down as the game itself.
Overused.
Our plastic faces are melting away.
Limb by limb we are
Growing much too exhausted to proceed.
The fun of this game is growing sparse.
No longer can it shatter silence with laughter.
No longer can it peel away a frown.
No longer does it intrigue.
Now it only produces tears.
Frustration.
A game like this is sure to be in next year’s garage sale.
On the fake-oak table,
Two dollars or less if bargained with.
It is far too obsolete to keep.

And yet this game is our fixation.
Our loathed habit.
It’s time to abandon it,
Cold turkey.
It’s time to tell you: I finally quit.