The Pain You Speak

The world we live in.

I wouldn’t know, I sigh.
Every night in bed I lie,
seeking fruit in the flesh
that I might pass the test.

AI bats an eye upon:
some forgotten lost son
having won at duty,
but lost in the bitcoin loot.

Life is a road to travel,
feet sweeping up the gravel.
The raindrops match my eyes’
light misting, a fire dies.

Is that the pain you speak?
Houses full to the peak,
yet practice solitary
soliloquy to the blank screen.

Irrevocable injury
breeding a light sting
Can I know your pain
if my own isn’t claimed?

We are the travelers, children,
parents, gamers. Jail cells.
AI’s final response:
Take the hurt, embrace her first.