The Game was
Her tears are already drying upon my shirt,
transparent stains that can only be remembered,
red might be a more appropriate hue,
representing the real pain I've dealt more casually than a hand
I leave you, the so-called queen of hearts,
to find your king of diamonds,
for I am just the joker you met last night,
no need to make amends, the game was in your head,
I play my own game,
a different one than yours,
without regret I don't follow suit,
bullshit is that which you play,
It's not a game,
but you are left out.
Casey Parks grew up in the small town of Red Bluff in North
California, writing in various forms, submitting to local
contests and fairs, composing personal poetry and music. He was
involved in high school journalism and advanced English
placement until he graduated from Red Bluff High School in June.
He has recently moved to San Luis Obispo, CA to study Business
and Liberal Arts at Cuesta College from which he would like to
transfer to California Polytechnic University in two years.
Other than writing, Casey enjoys climbing trees, playing guitar,
and moving fast in any direction.