Ready to live a life behind grey bars,

I face the consequences of my soul.

I was born in a war, under the stars,

And grew up in a home with no control.

Players come for the valuables I stole.

Fists go flying but I block their attack.

I dodge their swinging feet, knowing their goal,

But then a shank comes out, and I drawback.

They come at me like a ferocious pack,

But I'm ready. If I die, I die fighting.

One shank comes down, and I feel a wet smack.

Scarlet blood drips down, darkness comes, inviting.

Another loss because of the controller.

On the blank screen, letters appear: Game Over