All Out Poem by Anil Karki

This is the way we play our little game:
While I count up to 10, the others hide.
Do what you will, it always ends the same.

Some make classical physique their aim
Courting lust or envy, they decide
That's the way we play our little game.

Some seek fragile garnitures of fame,
Some drop out, claiming to slave their pride,
Do what you will, it always ends the same.

Others attempt to put the world to shame,
Rejoicing when their flesh is mortified,
This is the way we play our little game.

Of penance and contrition, meant to tame
A fear that we shall be caught and tried.
Although universally denied.

This is the way we play our little game.
Do what you will, it always ends the same.
Life is an accident, driven by sexual desire …