The Game

The Game

Eyes glistened, skimming through the photographs,
A ghost behind everything, in shadows, a dead soul.
Soul that once lived in wild ecstasy, in hope of the prospects,
Brutally slaughtered by those words nobody knew to confine.

Striking pain of regrets, that haunted the whole existence,
A lost gamble, a disastrous game for rubies in vain, looking back to hold on,
Yet love is praised, beyond than it should be, as sweet as cotton candy,
But hidden, disguised as white diary, misreading the paleness, to peace.