Losers in the Game

BY CAROLE NICHOLS

From the deepest chasm of life's pits
Comes a searching finger of query;
A meager soul seeking to rest,
Longing to ease a heart, love weary.

Slipping into the shadows of doubt,
The wind echos mournful sighs;
Not a place for one still with hope,
No matter how much the heart cries.

Into the garden of forgetfulness,
Statues there with no feeling;
Barren and bleak, no life inside,
No place for dreamers needing healing.

To the mountain high of memories gone,
Hearts there coated with gilded sorrow;
Time is forgotten, minds are blank,
No place for one with hopes of tomorrow.

Follow the endless river of tears,
Unable to soothe the thirst of the soul;
Till all hope drowns in bitter sorrow,
No place to make a broken heart whole.

When heart and hopes and dreams are shattered,
Where does one go to ease the pain?
When faith in yourself has been shaken,
How do you start to believe again?

This game of love is not often fair,
There's no reward for the losers;
It's a game of chance, a lot of luck,
There's a fine line tween givers and users.

There's no place for those who love alone,
Unless you call it a living hell;
And it takes so long to climb out of that pit,
It makes you regret you ever fell.