• Watch the children,
    pick up sticks,
    neatly placed,
    as they pick,
    the ones they want,
    and to not nick,
    the ones all around them.

    Life is a game,
    of pick up sticks,
    routinely lived,
    choices you pick,
    to affect you,
    and to not nick,
    the ones all around them.

    Big kids come,
    and crush them down,
    breaking sticks,
    into the ground,
    tears are shed,
    pieces passed around
    children mourning with those around them.

    Tragedy and hurt,
    are the big kids.
    They stomp on your life,
    you can't change what they did.
    Everything is broken,
    and smiles are false instead.

    But the children pick up sticks,
    they tape them together,
    using twigs and tape,
    cotton and feather.
    The pieces are the same,
    same yet of another,
    and the game is still played,
    with no regard if its over.

    Pick up your sticks,
    tape them,
    shape them,
    tie them,
    make them,
    keep playing the game,
    even if it is over.

    Because only you decide when it is over.