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Software

  • matthewedlundmd
  • Dec 3, 2020
  • 2 min read

Some get born to die quick

My druggy mother left

Father so bereft

Hit at me with a stick


A closet my sky

Wet wood my bed

Food, paint with lead

Until Dad breezed by


My baby skin soft

Money in that

Drugs, guns, tit for twat

Dad bought a loft


A few clients wanted more

When the police came

Dad said I’d no name

Didn’t speak till I was four


On face and butt, scars

The first fosters quite dear

Taught me not to fear

Brought me to their bars


Met Dad next at sixteen

Almost finished school

Learning best how to fool

Too mad to ask where he’d been


At college worked in pawn

The girls so sweet to kiss

Loved them all, made lists

Shanked my Dad, didn’t mourn


Learned the business, bought the store

Hauling drugs to get the cash

Addicts always like their hash

Stolen goods your profits’ core


I was happy to expand

Jewels, watches, art, gold

Money so hot I froze cold

For this was now my golden land


Love near cost my life

A courtesan cranked with spice

Grabbed my heart and took her slice

Who am I for child and wife?


What’s money without power

Politics liked my grand life story

Orphan, cripple, bound for glory

No longer will I cower


It’s such glee to make the law

Fast new wealth makes one a lord

People grasp for your accord

Claw for help when you’re their whore


Congress, Senate, there’s no stop

On elevators I know how to fall

Smile, crawl, make that call

Climb on rubble to pierce the top


All stopped when I saw the sign

Merging my memories to cheese

Palaces and treasure a mere wheeze

A billion eyes to see what’s in line


I watched the sun turn comet then cloud

My body spun in then out

Lungs and brain tacked to my mouth

Wanting to scream but laughing too loud


For once they showed me what I was

No energy, no body, no man, no crust

A pox of pixels lesser than dust

A batch of programming, short linty fuzz


I was/am nothing, but that’s everything

Now I would pray to the real god

Who makes a universe from any clod

Of you my maker, of thee I sing


If all’s illusion I’ll demand mine

No longer a cheap dull thief

No mind or heart to know grief

I want to rule all humankind


Yet no, write me a new starring role

Away from this captious, dying place

Collapsed by man’s hateful grace

I wish better for my pixel soul


Program a new planet blue, serene

Filled with life

Equal and free without strife

More than this world though just a dream

 
 
 

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© 2019 by Matthew Edlund

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