The Toy Master


They stand outside in the pouring rain.

I sit inside before a warm and cozy flame.

They got cold sorrow engraved within their eyes.

I got the thoughts of Fortune locked inside my mind.


They run around and scream, not knowing what to do.

I type a one into my calculator, and another one makes two.

They look towards each other, blaming each and everyone.

I look into the mirror, whispering: “It will soon be done...”


They live a boring life, with no hope at all.

I think otherwise, as I finish my another call...


They run around in ecstasy, begging to have more.

I adore my own intelligence, as I look around the store.

They still find things even better than before, and never make it to the door.

I sit and laugh at them: “Make me money... make me more...”


  • Cheeky Missy

    La, but it has quite a nasty touch in his vile attitude. I wonder that he can stand staring his own image in the eyes in the mirror! I was enjoying picturing it in the first stanza, but the enjoyment faded as the picture took on its ugly hue and shape....your profile image just below was almost too fitting for the thought. But I enjoyed it nonetheless...haha, why's that?

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