Chess Game Poem by Crystal Tutson

It's like I just wasn't enough
All along I'm pretending trying to play tough,

But the truth of the mater is I'm hurt.
You came in and treated me like I was dirt.

Something that you trample on and then disregard
like trash, used me up and then discord.

I never knew that all along I was like a pawn in your chess game
A small piece to the puzzle: one of many: a small name.

My moves were straight-forward while like a bishop you crossed it up.
You can only do so much crossing so with that I wish you luck.

One thing people forget is that when the pawn reaches the end
you can become who you want and ultimately win.

The moral of the game is treat every piece like it's a queen,
up close, valuable, with truth and respect: only sacrificing it for the king.