Poetry
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Staring at the Ceiling

The switch is switched
The game begins
Unlike any other competition
Concentration is your enemy
Not the adversary
But definitely the enemy
One of stealth, one of silence
He creeps up on you
Like winter creeps up on the fall
Small at first
With haze here, haze there
Growing silently before the blizzard hits
And then it strikes
Hard and furious
Snowing you in
Trapping you from the world
Tension mounts
The scream inside you grows stronger
Stronger
Threatening to take control
But then
Just as the tension becomes most aggressive
And you feel the control slipping away
Something holds you back
Not self-control or self-confidence
But fear
Fear of breaking the silence
Fear of losing the game
At the moment closest to victory
But now you are no longer close
For with the fear the game begins again
And so it goes
The more you play
The more you lose
The more you try
The more you fail
The goal is not impossible though
And eventually it will be met
But even at its completion
You have not won
The adversary has played for hours
Taunting you with your own thoughts
Like a puppet in the hands of time
You played for him
A losing battle
To an ungrateful adversary
Playing beyond your wishes
And beyond your control
The game is not over
Yet, he is victorious
Still, you’ve won before
And you’ll win again
And there’s always another night