heart, sky, losses, star crossed- lovers, unrequited love. | The Odyssey Online
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Arts Entertainment

Poetry On Odyssey: Monopoly

A mess of words for those of us who are able to recognize the fragilities of the human heart.

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Poetry On Odyssey: Monopoly
Ada Benson

In This Article:

I've always been good at playing games.

It all started with Monopoly.

I collected properties faster than a charmer

who's perfected the art of hoarding torn-up hearts

and putting them on display

as if to say,

"Look at me… I broke two more since yesterday".

Now that's not to say I haven't had my fair share of losses

I've been buried so deep under a fictitious flame

I've resorted to prayer…

and I'm not even religious.

We've all been guilty at one time or another,

for being caught caring too fiercely for things we should not,

and by the time we realize that the sky

is in fact the limit,

the wings we constructed

from our torn up heartstrings decide

that the ground is a more desirable collide

as the destination for our glorified joyride.

I don't know if anyone ever told you

but cloud nine was never meant to hold anyone up in the night sky

long enough for our signs to align with another's.

And maybe that's why all the star-crossed lovers I've ever met

never seem to survive the nosedive

back down to the ground.

I've met more than a few people who keep a playground

where their hearts should be.

All the broken and rusted parts

hidden under a new layer of new paint,

because according to our society,

anything with a little variety is with taint

Careful!

Watch out for that wet paint!

Don't you see the lines that the masses are boxing you into?

Being different is your crime

and all the judgement you've faced

just sentenced you to a life behind bars…

it's as if they couldn't tell just how far back in your mind

you've been sitting,

as if the greatest prison known to man

isn't hidden inside your head.

As if this mind-made lockup isn't casting shade

over the part of yourself

that used to harbor memories of the days

when summertime meant holding a buttercup under your chin.

Has been are the days when flowers

were a symbol of fascination;

at our age,

their silence shouts apologies

for the lovers who have discovered that an unrequited love

isn't something you recover from.

I've never been good at playing games…

I guess I've only got myself to blame.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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