I can't remember when this generation died,
until I looked the youth right into their eyes.
Their souls mechanical uses for government, their hearts imperative to finally love someone.
Other than that screen,
The desk which we lean.
Computerised smiles of you and me-
we're as fake as the things we watch on TV.
The ones who helped us feed mean less to us than that computer screen -no?
It's normal.
Well becoming the norm... learning from vloggers more than our own mum.
I remember when this generation died.
When technology finally closed our eyes.
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Author:
fayeisabee1 (
Offline) - Published: June 21st, 2017 02:43
- Comment from author about the poem: another random poem about technology
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 51
Offline)
Comments2
It will not be long before normal conversation is confined to history. Good write.
Fayeisabee, this is why you are writing such beautiful poems. It is true that there is something seriously wrong if two people at the breakfast table text each other to hand over the butter, but YOU more than make up for it with your writing. Put it into an app and you just might have a chance to make them see their erroneous ways 🙂
Thankyou so much ☺️
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