Sunday, May 20, 2018

All That for Nothing

Sighs the girl who’s curled around
A small screen, playing a game.
Outside the window, the trees,

Descendants of everything
Logged down to nothing
But stumps, a hundred
And twenty years gone,

Mount their assault on the sky.
Any goal is bound to end
In nothing or in triumph
And then nothing in the end.

Nothing is only a name.
Now the girl ascends
The next level in her game.

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