You win.

I lose.

You always win.

I always lose.

It’s clear- you can see it painted in

Blue and black all over the parts

They will not see.

Well that’s not true.

The black eye is a bit obvious.

In every victory you become more confident

More ambitious in your trophies.

It’s like you want to be caught.

You want someone to notice

Who it was that smashed my phone,

My face,

My broken wrist.

I am just not fun enough anymore.

You’ve played to many games and

Broken your favourite toy.

I don’t try to run now, I don’t cry,

I don’t beg for your mercy.

All your favourite action features broken.

It’s getting to the point,

I think you’d murder for the joy

Of something new to reshape.

Something more challenging than

Your broken slave.

And I am afraid.

But I can’t let you know that.