My Time (But Not Mine)

Poetry Aug 5, 2025

By Daniel Breuer

School is out, the stress is gone,
The curtains pulled, the lights stay on.
I passed the tests, I did my part—
Now summer beats inside my heart.

The screens ignite, my headset hums,
My squad logs in--the moment comes.
At last, I’m free to game all night...
But Mom storms in and kills the light.

“That’s all you do,” she snaps again,
Like joy itself’s some kind of sin.
“You’re wasting time,” she shakes her head,
Then tells me I should read instead.

But I work at night--my shift runs deep,
While others dream, I lose my sleep.
I punch the clock, I earn my pay,
So why can’t I just game by day?

It’s not about some lazy thrill,
It’s bonding, laughs, a test of skill.
It’s how I breathe, unwind, reset--
Not something I’ll just outgrow yet.

She works from home, so I stay low,
I mute the mic, I keep it slow.
But still she says it’s gone too far,
Like playing games defines who we are.

I’m not a drone or lazy brat,
I’m doing all I can--what’s that
If not enough to earn some peace?
To let this bottled-up joy release?

This isn’t school--it’s summer now,
No desk, no grades, no sweat-soaked brow.
I gave the year, I gave the fight,
Now let me game. I’ve earned this right.

Let me be loud. Let me be free.

It’s summer now—let me be me.