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girls
May 22, 2010
Each girl that I know seems to play a game,
A game that starts with hatred and calling people names.
A game of drama that each one plays,
A game that I never bothered to play.
Yet each time I fall into their cruelly set traps,
That all of them have so strategically mapped,
It ends in tears and heartbroken whys?
For they have been so wrapped up in lies,
Elaborately weaved stories, and nanasty phone calls.
It is part of a war where everyone falls.
No sword, no armor can protect you from this.
For all it takes is one nanasty hiss.
© Amanda G., Baltimore, MD
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