the game of loss

in the end, it's a game. two teams in each side of a field, throwing the ball at each other. each team element trying not to be hit by it - the idea is to avoid it, to deflect it in some way. and then to grab it, and to toss it back to the other side. aiming at the head, pushing it back for a deep, strong throw. and then the hit, and the guilt of letting the ball find its target. and again, catch the ball and take aim. on and on. until no one is innocent, until all the flaws are revealed and no one is able to leave the pitch unmarked, unscarred. until there is no one left to blame, for it does not matter who was hit first one being hit, or the last one. until there is no more guilt to fire, and no victory to achieve.

mankind has been playing this game since the beginning of times. when it is over, no one remembers any more who started it, who tossed the first ball. who was marked by shame first. what is remembed by all players is how it ended. and no one who have ever played it can pride oneself for leaving the field victorious. there is no cup awating in the end, no medal to receive while standing on the top of the podium to a cheering crowd. there is only the anger, before it starts. the upheaval, while playing. and the emptiness, when it's over, after the last ball was tossed and the last innocent player was found guilty. it's not a game meant for a team to achieve victory - only to inflict defeat.