You stand there, naive and unknowing all that you have created
I suppose you might think in that skull of yours you are ready to continue your ignorance.
And I can only take partial credit for your idiocy.
I ask you over again, as I have many times before, “Do you want to play this game?”
To which you always replied, “That depends what game you are playing.”
And I watched you every day, grow more and more baffling,
Examining my life and wondering why I ever bothered caring.
But I know. Because the game I play is almost finished.
And when I ask myself if I do want to play, my heart says no but my mind insists.
And you again ask me what game I am playing. To which I reply,
“I do not know. But would you like to play with me?”