In Seoul one day in two-oh-nine,
A man walked in with no spare dime.
A manga café, warm and bright,
Became his shelter from the fight.
No snacks, no drink, he made no sound,
Just grabbed his book and sat right down.
The pages soaked with blood and fear,
Yet in that world, he felt so near.
The manga’s name? Battle Royale,
A tale of death, so grim, so vile.
Yet every page, though soaked in gore,
Let him forget he was poor.
For thirty-eight, he’d fought and dreamed,
To write, direct—his vision beamed.
But jobs were rare, and hope grew thin,
Each chance would fade before he’d win.
With mom and gran he shared a room,
But still the air was thick with gloom.
They pooled their coins, yet rent was late,
And hunger whispered dark with fate.
He sold his laptop, sold his pen,
To buy some rice, again, again.
With rising debt and fading spark,
He sat and read to flee the dark.
Then suddenly, an inner light—
An idea bold began to ignite.
“What if,” he thought, “I tell my tale,
Through death and hunger, raw and pale?”
He grabbed a pen, some scrap nearby,
And let the ink and pain just fly.
A world was born with every line,
Of twisted games and steep decline.
For hours he wrote, heart pounding fast,
A future brighter than his past.
“This is the one!” he whispered low,
“The world will see what I now know!”
Months flew by and draft grew strong,
He pitched it loud, but all felt wrong.
Too weird, too dark, they shut him out,
“No one will watch this show,” they’d shout.
But he believed in what he’d done,
He’d marry pain and death as one.
“Let’s show the world how poor men strive,
To play for cash, just to survive.”
Ten long years, through “no” and “stop,”
He climbed a hill that had no top.
But then one day, from out the blue,
A studio said, “We’ll bet on you.”
They bought his script, they filmed his dream,
The world would soon know what he’d seen.
In twenty-one, it hit the screen—
A show like none had ever seen.
“Squid Game” dropped—and spread like fire,
Each viewer hooked, each heartbeat higher.
The world went mad, the ratings soared,
A tale of death the crowds adored.
Nine hundred million dollars made,
For dreams that once had been betrayed.
And Huang Dong-hyuk, now praised and famed,
An Emmy won, a world acclaimed.
Inspired by Battle Royale’s spark,
And poverty’s consuming dark—
He made a world where poor men play,
And pay with blood to win the day.
From manga booths to global fame,
He changed the world with just a name.
So if you’re down, and dreams seem lame—
Remember the tale behind Squid Game.