Born to be a Runner

Books, or the world I saw, real or utopian?

Left me with a question, with that dubious action.

Massive or micro, already a puzzle,

I was in a quest, huzzle and buzzle.

Opened the eyes in that mystic hole,

With no identity and blank as gone.

Eyes amazed, they asked me for my name,

“I have no name”, replied as I was stuck in the game.

All was new, and the view was new,

Later I met “Newt” but he was not new.

Path was just a view, like a little white dew,

I was left alone with this demented crew.

Was it grueling? Arduous or hard?

Didn’t know the meaning of this demanding yard.

Round by a wall, without a single call,

Knew that I had to brawl and crawl.

Days passed, and the daytime sun mocked,

Said its smirks that I was locked.

A door opened, long, but not pearled,

Like a way to a mysterious world.

Staggered, neither figured out nor reported,

Silence answered that I should be thwarted.

Hallucinations, no, it was just presence,

Curious but my mind was in absence.

Was it a trick that the door shut itself

When my soul went in with myself?

They were saved, I was traded,

It was all a maze, complex and bladed.

Ran and raced, rushed and darted,

Till the “Right Time” as they said, when I was parted.

Edified me as a maze-runner,

They were oblivious, me as the winner.

Is this the story of “The Maze Runner”, that you know?

Second-thought matters, as it is a “No”