Only a Game

Everything is a game to me;

The game is a cruel demon.

It is secretive, revealing itself atom by atom.

Even the gentlest bump from the demon will drain the soul:

The game is a power struggle;

Power over threats, threats posed by those closest.

The demon's lightest shake causes death:

The soul crumbles under power's chain, corrupted.

The body returns to dust;

Demon's talon beckons the cells apart.

<You make little sense...>

<Where does this game begin, let alone end?>

The game begins at the end; 

It ends deep within the mind's shadows.

As the end draws near,

The beginning oozes forth.