Dear God, Help Me
Author: Neil Evans

Chapter 3
This Wicked Game

In the days not long before today, I dated many girls. A man whore, is what I've been called. I see no reason to disbelieve this. I dated 8 girls at one time. This was a sick and hideous thing for me to do. This is a lamenting poem as I finally realized the cold truth of what I was doing. I had dumped one of the two girls that I had cared most about and was prepping to rid myself of the second. Not because I didn't want them. But simply because I couldn't take dating anymore, and I told them the entire truth. Needless to say, it was a bitch smack in the face to both of them. This is the poem that came from my sorrow of such an event:

"This Wicked Game"

As I type this
My hands rumble.
I smell death
On my breath.
My cold lips
Part as I tell
The absolute truth.
And I rip out
Your fragile heart.
When will I put
This wicked game
To a final end?


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