Glass castles lurk above--
glinting, black blades
protecting gods who scrutinize
my every move.
They show no mercy.
Each day I wake afraid--
the numbers in my account,
enough to last
another month?
Strings they touch, featherlight
impressions, ghosts prodding,
urging me to play:
sacrifice another precious
second, earn another blood-stained
token just to have it torn
from my calloused fingers
by the gods who manipulate
me with puppets wearing
wooden smiles, I survive...
Until they snip the strings,
and I fall--
