The Binary Life

My car moved when I typed 1

It stopped at each 0

I type 1 and the lights were on,

At every 0, it was dark again...

I look away from the perfect screen

Through a glass window covered with dirt,

And I see beyond the translucence

A dimly lit house on the hillside,

A broken door left ajar,

A worn out roof that'd still let

A few raindrops seep in,

A man limping his way home

the way he would have run if he could.

I see the imperfections 

Of the enormous tree

Under which a child could still be drenched-

One drop at a time.

I see a half-torn ten dollar bill,

Lying near some worm-ridden mangoes

The owner of the tree couldn't pluck on time,

Useless as both could be, the way

A writer would think away his time,

Without words to put on the paper.

I come home late at night

Another day of programming  LEDS

and wheels of the tiny robot car,

Coding 1 or 0, I kill my day,

Only to find my night dimly lit

Like the house on the hillside,

Not dark enough,

Not bright enough.

I paint the walls of my room white,

The furniture in it- all black

Only to find my life a little grey-

Impossible to love,

Improbable to hate..