Games

Das games, my soul, but in miniature
I played and played without the task of life
Though all those near said I was immature
My heart, the task was meant to play this Strife

I played and played until my comp broke down
But what would Shakespeare say of life so bleak
I told them all that I was playing now
Was such a rake and then began to reek

Now I don't play any more games today
I get to write this book, get to be heard
I asked them all if they could find a way
For me to be so rich, at least to learn

I sleep with knowledge held, so tight, so dear
That though my mind, it melts, I shall not fear.