A Little Box That Goes 'Beep'
Before the Apple Macintosh
Was this fine computer, Spectrum.
At 3.5 MHz speed
It catered for every need, like games,
Education, business, leisure,
A small black box filled with pleasure,
A little black box that goes 'beep'.
Fast forward '94...
Your Sinclair officially dead
The ZX Spectrum, plus deathbed.
The memories linger on, fading.
Though '3D Deathchase' needs reviving.
Now it's possible, on a PC
To emulate the beloved Speccy
Games like 'Atic Atac' flash back,
Names like 'Ultimate' we sorely lack.
The fading memories of when,
The little black box went 'beep'.
His life was rehearsed, his manners were trained
As he silently raged through the staged demeanours
Of his false character
Self had suffered in this process, by way of process,
To gain success and acceptance
Deep down inside lies resistance, despite his insistence
To be free, to find his real 'me'
He is forced to wear several masks,
To undergo several tasks, aside of his volition,
To keep his position intact,
Though he's well aware of the fact,
That the person they are seeing is actually acting,
With a mask of super glue
He was forced to sell out.
Beneath the layer he shouts and screams,
Looking for directions, as he feels some decisions
Which he had taken, had none of his association.
Instead, they acted as an avatar for his position.
Chaos is the one result,
Of finding the transition too difficult;
Moving from dream to scene through a scream
And planning your answers for later
So you find yourself tormented,
'Cause you've demonstrated competence in the art of pretence
At the expense of the real 'you'
(Unless of course they marred the façade
'Cause the change was too hard.
So they marked your card with a label that spelt
He was forced to surrender, his own sense of wonder
That saw him plunder other characters.
Just to fit in, he had privatised 'him'
And outsourced his whims to the lowest bidder, just to feel better
In the long run, this didn't help him, as he was depressed within.
I am proud to admit that I didn't like PE one bit
And that I'm far from being average
My general knowledge and elephantine memory are all part of me.
I've tried too long hoping to follow the crowd
Like other people I've seen around.
I'm happy being myself, instead of asking "Am I normal?"
I just wanted to fit in; when I tried, my chances were thin,
As my mindset is different within
Although I look average like the rest
They couldn't cope with the knowledge, my outlook, direction and probably emotion.
After years of rejection and self-reflection, I've found myself at ease
Celebrating, instead of berating my differences.
This for me is my clearest intention.