A Losing Game

I see the damn crowd,

brewing into some illiterate conscious,

where they awoken by that damn blood,

where none shall escape from this undying game.

The lies wouldn't be unveil,

by this overlapping curse of one man,

  but it shall sticks into one account of yours, truly,

then another shall take it into theirs.

The world was just a pit,

for this undying little flesh,

where it all can go wrong,

within a split second of choices.

A heart of sympathies wouldn't last long,

a wrong choices made it look bad,

for this undying wish to continue,

a losing game need to be created.

As for i, the legions are long gone,

the kin will no longer speaks of this tragedy,

where the game needs rest,

as for new era will rise to play.