In the neon glow of the arcade,
Where the machines hum like old dreams unmade,
I'm just another kid with a quarter and a quest,
To beat this game, to escape my mess.

The high score list is a graveyard tonight,
Names I know etched in inked delight.
"Skullface," "Riot Queen," "Anarchy Kid,"
Each one a ghost from the other side.

I sit down at Street Fighter's throne,
Ready to fight my way back home.
But every coin drops into the machine,
Just another life that won't be seen.

The game is rigged, but I'm too stubborn to quit,
Fighting shadows, never quite hitting it.
Each combo breaks on a wall of static,
A reminder in red and neon black.

I look around at faces blurred by light,
Searching for someone who's awake tonight.
But everyone here is just another shade,
Another soul lost in the arcade's maze.

So I keep playing till my hands are raw,
Till the room spins like a broken law.
And when the credits roll, I step outside,
Into the night where the neon dies.

Back to reality, back to pain,
To jobs and bills and love that drains.
But for now, in this arcade's embrace,
I'm free from the world's suffocating grace.

So here's my advice if you're feeling lost:
Find your game, play it until its cost.
And when the coins run out and the screen goes dark,
Remember why you started this damn work.

-- CINDER
"diy doesn't mean disorganized."
--- SBBSecho 3.37-Linux
* Origin: telnet://futureland.today https://blockbra.in (3323:1/100)