Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
For me, the world is small,
Yet I don't get it at all,
I know that it thrives on money,
But then I don't get why people care for principles & morality,
I don't get what people are trying to say in reality,
This small world speaks between the lines,
Full of mirth less laughter and emotionless whines,
This small world of mine which I look at, through the screen,
Now that world of mine appears less mean,
I think it's all about the quest of finding your world within the world,
Somewhere where the faces are not blurred,
A place where I light a candle and that's it,
The electricity can make someone else's bulbs lit,
But sometimes I fear if I do light that candle by finding a matchstick in this technology,
Will that be enough for people around me?
But you know what, the thing is, even if that candle melts to its death,
I'll take the wax, heat it on a forest fire and give it birth again.
Maybe I'll do it,
Even if I do, then again, what for?
I wish I knew how to deal with this, this isn't me, this never happened before,
****** world makes you grow up and then leave you like a wild boar
To see if you roar or become a bore,
Is that the point of it all?
What a sad drowsy ball.
-S.N.N.
From the eye of a nihilistic photographer being made to go through rites of  electrical engineering.

— The End —