Rules of the Game

Youth’s arrogance like a young and red, a very red, young rose – To learn, except for the extravagance of foes: Instead the lamplight hanging on a rotted wooden beam Goes darker than from what decay would seem. Take this here pile of cinders, jagged bones, and ash, And save the sign of Jesus Christ for last; For in this silky residue and vile debris, you’ll see More lies than hidden truths and past hubris. Sometimes a story takes an unknown shape A shape you’d never know nor care to view agape, But should you enlist an interest, a faint request, You’re more than like to meet your doomed behest. The first rule of living, says don’t take what isn’t yours, Or at their possessor hands, you’ll end up on all fours – The second rule, do not be cocky as to think your right Descries the right of greater men their might. Tender knocks on hardwood doors are subtle jokes, And yet, I wonder how I feed this complex hoax – This frenzy feeds upon itself ‘til eating is its death, Rule number three a glutton always draws last breath. Rule number four:beauty truly is skin deep, There are thousands of souls so shallow and cheap; Drink up Unfair Credulity, for both rules five and six, Say time is no mercy, and once done cannot fix. The seventh, “the mind’s still confused and dazed”, But your thoughts remain; your soulful stare is unfazed, Which, when conceived from tower tier to castle gate, Unhinged, unloosed, and underwhelming the Ever-Fateful Number Eight.