Debt. Loss. Grief.
Foul empire. Action and stagnation.
You think you might be sick.
Create a cure, or at least
a treatment. Hurry and heal.
Some players quit. Rats creep
through small cracks. Be alert.
Walk like you’re confident. Stay
dangerous. Over your shoulder
there’s grenades detonating.
Wreckage cluttering the alley.
You look back at deflated conviction.
Can’t slow. Devil tugging your leash.
You have a meeting. Nearly late,
pick up the pace. Hold yourself.
Drown that pain. Arriving you
encounter a brawling crowd.
Violent riot. The elevator
is stuck. Their last straw. Claw
your way over them. Your goal
is waiting. Top floor. Final door.
365 tests. Little left.