Gameboy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a poem I wrote in 5th grade, but I often revisit. PLEASE COMMENT!

Submitted: January 01, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 01, 2017

A A A

A A A


 

Gameboy

Sadie Corrigan

He lurks the hall, controlled by an invisible hand. A bulge under his coat.

The door creaks open and shuts silently.

Paint snows off the old stall door as it shuts.

Security is insured… the bulge emerges.

Lights dance across a screen. Tilts, swishes, slides.

An innocent bang of a door sounds an alarm. The stall door opens.

Shock travels through the two figures. The screen goes silent, the lights go black. But there is no place for it to hide.

The figure runs out. Flash, words, rush. People come. In. And out. High heels clop down the wide space between beige walls.

Filling it up.

Confusion, Anger. Names, words, sugarcoated smiles.

Mind is blank. Choices unclear. Feet are heavy.

The thud of a heart. Danger.

The only thing that exists is the pounding the spinning.

Chairs, desks, security. Secretaries typing forms the unrythmic tune of an office. Glances, stares, questions are not asked by any… except the boss. With her laser stare. He stirs almost as if from sleep. Chosen words. No denying. Only pathetic lies and fragile truths.

Almost begging. Giving in. Despicable thoughts, dance and rise.

Climbs grey endless rising blocks. Grabbing onto red that seems transparent. Climbing up. Waiting, wondering. A still remote. Lazes through a book.

It’s easy now?

Pages barely skimmed.

A girl forms in the frame of a door. Hatred burns between them. An angry feeling is scraped up from the top of his mind. Deeper is jealousy. Down in the depths of thought.

Flash to her mind, hatred surges.

Underneath is pity. A secret feeling.

Electric wires whip to life. All hear. A fake calm voice… Intercom… Shelter In.

A name is powerful. The name is released. Like the lock on the cage of a tiger,

clicked open.

Bites anyone and everyone.

Girl rushes back down the symmetrical squares of a hall.

All feelings are replaced with confusion.

Them… searching, for him? He avoids the obvious. Confused?

Exasperated. She gives him no choice.

It all happens at once. Never saw it coming. Phones calls, ring like an alarm. Again and again and again.

Hears the noise. Sees the relief in them. He knows.

They think, what in the world? The glass shatters.

Games Over, Boy.

 


© Copyright 2018 Rose Corrigan. All rights reserved.

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