a fair game

if the greatest gift to receive was Life,

why must humanity suffer its strife?

have we been fools, roaming without an aim,

who fought to last until the end of the game?

how cruel Life has been to us, i suppose,

for letting down hundreds of thousands of those

with greatest faith in what living brings,

but ride to freedom on Death’s broad wings.

Death plays fairly, the game the living own

under equal eyes, we are skin and bone

he views us not by power nor by fame

not wealth nor status nor beliefs nor name.

Life treats his victims badly through his greed

pure luck, pure chance, pure fate, pure fortune’s deed

but Death shall claim his lovers all the same;

he waits for no one to begin the game.