My car moved when I typed 1It stopped at each 0I type 1 and the lights were on,At every 0, it was dark again...
I look away from the perfect screenThrough a glass window covered with dirt,And I see beyond the translucenceA dimly lit house on the hillside,A broken door left ajar,A worn out roof that'd still letA few raindrops seep in,A man limping his way homethe way he would have run if he could.I see the imperfections Of the enormous treeUnder which a child could still be drenched-One drop at a time.
I see a half-torn ten dollar bill,Lying near some worm-ridden mangoesThe owner of the tree couldn't pluck on time,Useless as both could be, the wayA writer would think away his time,Without words to put on the paper.
I come home late at nightAnother day of programming LEDSand wheels of the tiny robot car,Coding 1 or 0, I kill my day,Only to find my night dimly litLike the house on the hillside,Not dark enough,Not bright enough.I paint the walls of my room white,The furniture in it- all blackOnly to find my life a little grey-Impossible to love,Improbable to hate..
