The Killing Game

The Killing Game

They gather in the quiet night,

Silent footsteps, out of sight.

Shadows creeping, hearts like stone,

Each one standing all alone.

A whisper cuts the frozen air,

No mercy lives or lingers there.

Eyes are sharp, and hands are fast,

The killing game will never pass.

The hunter waits, a steady hand,

Blood and dust across the land.

A glance, a blink the moment’s gone,

Another player marches on.

The price is high, the rules are clear,

No space for kindness, hope, or fear.

A winner crowned, a loser falls,

Their names fade on forgotten walls.

Cold steel sings a deadly tune,

Beneath a blood-red, silent moon.

No cheers, no shouts, no prize, no fame,

Just ghosts who played the killing game.

when the sun breaks through the sky,

The ground still echoes every cry.

A game of death, so dark, so vain

And yet, they play it once again.