I am a homeless man
enraged at all the voices.

A shotgun is in my hand.

The hordes are never noiseless.

I swear it’s all a game,

I can feel that they control me.

Never meant to bring them here,

but the road gets oh so lonely.

Our only choice is death,

no matter heroes choosing.

The choice is all for not

I feel the players loosing.

I am sitting on my couch

my hands will not stop rumbling.

My friends are all in ear

their voices close to numbing

I pick one gun up

and put another down

the “Ray gun” is in my pocket

for a later round.

The puzzles are confusing,

but worth it to complete.

Survival is for measuring how good a loser you can be.

            I am at my desk

rendering something out.

When I think of my future

“creative” is spelled out.

I designed the characters that players know and love,

worked at Treyarch for ten years

and can’t thank god enough.

I will be the leader

final word is when I say.

I designed the world you see,

every inch inside your game.

            I plan to change humanity

one smile at a time.

The crowd goes on forever

And the name they chant

is mine.