Game On
People talk about you all the time,
It seems you’re always on their minds,
In the papers, on TV,
But, sorry Death, you can’t catch me.
I’ve seen your creepy shadow cloak
As you convince some kids to smoke,
Plenty of youth, take your pick,
But, sorry Death, I know your tricks.
You seem to think you’re awfully tough,
Encouraging people to just “play rough,”
Starting wars, great disputes,
But, sorry Death, I just won’t shoot.
Sometimes though, you’re awfully sly,
Slipping through cracks, chinks in the armor,
Finding weaknesses we didn’t know existed,
Weaknesses we didn’t think we had.
You quietly cripple us,
Taking down those who do not seem to deserve it.
What did they do to you, Death?
How can I thwart you
When you don’t play fair?
A game of cat and mouse—
That’s what you and I are playing.
You are pretty good at it, I’ll admit,
But you’ve had quite a bit of practice.
You think you have the upper hand,
But I have one more trick of my own.
Didn’t expect that, did you Death?
What will you do
When I turn to embrace you, not run?
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