Merge

Kind of a well thought out stream-of-consciousness type poem.

He holds his side as he falls to his death
Into an endless pit of pixelated flames
And his adversary holds his sword up high
All while the electric god shouts "Game Over"
And the lone child looks on with robotic eyes
A loud noise pounding in his ears
From the stereo in the room next door
Where his brother throws the phone against the wall
And cries silently, afraid of being heard
The same tears his mother is long devoid of
The same blood that pours from the wine bottle every thirty seconds
Running through the same veins as her husband
Who arrives home late once again
Waving kindly to his neighbor
And the empty space between them all
Is the space between this house and the one across the street
And this street and the one across town
And this nation and the one overseas
Starving and bleeding and cursing the child
A slave to his electric god
All empty space filled with longing and discontent
The real God holds His side as He falls to His death
The disease in their eyes, ears, tears, blood, and hands