You stole my last heart.
And took it away.
Now I've no lives,
to continue my play.

A lot of working out was done.
The resulting game, though, wasn't fun.
An idea scrapped, a project gone.
Now to start another one.

I'm sat with my coffee, and I'm ready to work.
But "Windows is ready to update" it claims.
So I sit back, relax, and I watch it reboot
and reboot, and reboot, and reboot again.

My mailbag is unhappy.
There's loneliness inside.
"Why does no-one post to me?"
The pain, it tries to hide.

Early morning, wide awake.
I poked my hand into the mailbag.
Came up empty, once again.
The lack of mail, it made me feel sad.

Oh dear, there is no mail again.
I guess it's time to scrap it.
I'll keep it here, though, just in case
you people want to fill it.

Yesterday was lazy day,
and coding seemed a life away.
I hope I get more done, today.
So there's another game to play.

I made myself a mailbag.
But no-one seems to care.
This section's rather empty, now.
I guess I'll leave it there.

Four hundred and Eighty.
When I started to draw.
I didn't consider,
I'd make it this far.

The cogs are in place.
The game's now quite steady.
But I've still lots to do,
before it is ready.

People on Miitomo
Think I'm obsessed with cake.
How can I tell them...
My character is fake!

Yesterday was wasted.
I didn't do anything useful..
Today I should do something good.
I don't know what that is, though.

Waiting for downloads and uploads again.
I seem to be waiting forever.
Soon they will finish, then more will begin.
There's never an end to it, ever.

Another early morning. What to do at this time?
I'll try to code things, but complete next to none.
I guess I'll play games, and waste time online.
Then maybe give up, and be in bed by one.

I knew it was coming.
It wasn't surprising.
But when the deadline arrived.
I wasn't done typing.

I took a day off.
My head said I had to.
I blame all the chocolate,
the bar that I went through.

Freddy Flea, surprisingly,
is actually a heavy flea.
He's hopping so delightfully,
But causing such a catastrophe.

Choosing a side.
Left or right.
Will you stand.
Will you fight?

I can't be arsed.
I'm tired as hell.
I think that my body
is broken, as well!

The hamster is happy,
it's sunny outside.
There's no nasty snowmen
from which he must hide.