It rests quietly in my palm. A plastic path to thrilling quests. Not a weapon or a tool— Yet it breaks the rules of every rule.
With a flick of my wrist, I soar through the heavens. Chasing dreams in quiet places. A press, a shift, and a sudden slide, And I'm no longer trapped inside.
The joystick communicates without speaking any words. It moves in ways that the heart has heard. A connection between my thoughts and game, Where victories and defeats are without shame.
Each motion teaches something genuine— I value control. That balance comes from knowing when to To jump, to stop, and to start again.
I lose, learn, and press restart. Each level shapes the mind and heart. No judgment is cast; rather, it is an opportunity to grow. To master what I already know.
In luminous worlds where pixels shine, I navigate both grief and dreams. Not only for enjoyment or excitement— The joystick reflects human desire.
A simple shape, yet oddly wise. It sharpens hands and opens eyes. Although it is so powerful when it's in code, It controls the soul down strange paths.
My coming is not just to play, But know myself in my own way. When the joystick vibrate, the screen ignites— And I begin to chance new level.