This is not a poem.

It is merely a theory.

Just try to imagine

 

You are in a room

For an entire lifetime

With nothing to do

In the first twenty years.

 

Concrete brickwork.

Plastic windows let light it

However no images

Then a hatch opens.

 

A little red ball bounces in

The boredom broken, the hatch closes.

The ball brings you

Complete entertainment

After years of nothing.

 

Then one year later you awake.

The little red ball is gone.

You never get it back

And the rest of your life

Is spent dreaming of that year.

 

Worse off than if

You never had it.

The question is this:

 

If you had the chance

To relive the past

Would you keep the ball

Or throw it back

On the first day.