More
The child expected something more.
Holding a plastic figurine,
staring, wondering if
a trophy was what it was all for.
Two thousand hours and counting
And counting and counting and
A plastic figurine,
Was all it was for.
Treading through a sea of
empty metal chairs,
certificate in hand
Was this all it was for?
Two hundred loud fights on
black and white notes
But a deafening silence
Was all it was for.
Monotonous years through virtual plains
were led by indulgent RGB mice.
And though twenty months ago,
you would find them otherwise;
their mind became a pixel hourglass
Turning, and turning,
and so full of sand.
but a pattern through time only
Flips itself over; and
Spends so much energy
on nothing at all. So
mouse in hand, treading virtual sands,
tasked with balancing escapism and reality
The child expected something more.