Banging against rocks

[terse flint]

In a concrete jungle, up a flight
of stairs, with luggage that’s sure not light.
And I don’t even know if the place where I’m going is right.

Don’t want money, nor do I want fame
To win or lose, it ends up all the same
When I’m not even sure if I know yet the name of the game.

Well I’d better find out fast
If I ever plan to play.

<@&1116088175618699345> I feel like all of my poems as of late have been too short and in some ways don't have the thought put into them that some of my other poems have had. Give feedback for this one anyways, if you're willing to of course.