Password

You don’t own me or my money
You’re just a stupid rectangle
Tapping its cursor
Mumbling “Forget your password?”
Under your snide breath
Don’t act like you’ve got somewhere else to be
I know you’re here all day
And I’m leading this dance
By the way I didn’t forget ‘MY’ password
I remember that one just fine
But you insisted on a special character
Which means I had to use not-my-password
So really I forgot ‘A’ password
By the way it was just one out of probably a hundred
So now we sit here staring each other down
Across a deserted pixel-paved highway
Fingers twitching waiting for the draw
Who wins this one?
Well definitely not you rectangle

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Ashes of Soldiers”)