The Game

The winds of change are blowin’,
But memories are here to stay.
The horrible shadows the good,
‘Til the good has faded away.

Left remaining, the anger and pain,
Things done and having been said.
Had there been any good memories,
By now, they are surely dead.

Some of the players have gone,
Whom new players have now replaced.
The game has finally ended,
The last player has been erased.

The cards now stand together,
Never mentioning the game.
The way they were bent, shuffled and dealt,
The anger, fear, and the shame.

The only rule of this game,
Stands as firm as it has before.
Never say what you truly don't mean,
You cannot re-open the door.

Original poetry by @lisamarietaggart
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