The Game Maker Poem by Rutvi Padhy

From his lavish throne, by the screen,
He watches his players play,
And as they stand tall in his devious land,
The game maker smirks at his innocent preys...

Without a hitch, he lets them flourish first,
He lets his players think it's a child's play,
The game maker must be a wicked one indeed,
The game maker must have crooked ways...

Thus, when his ignorant players celebrate their win,
That's when the game maker throws them troubles deep,
The game maker, he shows them nightmares now,
He shows them the same nightmares that haunt his own sleep...

Funny, how horrid dreams can lure and kill,
Funny, not a single one survives,
Now, you must wonder how the game maker has endured them himself?
You must wonder why he made such a horrid game that kills?

Well, to begin with, the game maker is a good friend of mine,
And I know he personally wanted his players to win,
He never really intended to kill them,
Rather, he wanted his players to reach level three and slay the monster that was him...