We travel so far,
plagues in the jetstream,
bugs in the mainframe,
a glitch,
a worldwide bitch,
an unscratchable itch.
We are caught,
like an insect,
trapped beneath a glass,
on a window,
nowhere to hide,
all for best,
all for scrutiny,
to be examined,
under the microscope,
under the hammer,
under the glare,
and for a moment there...
...I lost myself.
- Author: Yorke ( Offline)
- Published: November 14th, 2015 17:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: melisa alpizar
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