Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jan 2014 Natasya Celia
Love
What happened to the times,
When a ratchet was just a tool,
And a tool being something to use?
What happened to a twitter and a tweet having something to do with birds?
Facebook was the term some punk yelled when he'd smash a nerds books right into his face...
And tumblr was a person who did gymnastics.
People would never go around saying kik me,
Instead a sign said it loud and clear,
Taped to their back.
YouTube...what the Hell was a YouTube?
You had some kind of tube put in...
What?
Why is a ***** a mean and angry girl,
Instead of a female dog?
Why is that little gay boy called a ***?
Does he look like a cigarette,
Or a bundle of sticks?
What happened to calling some dude a ****,
Because that was his name, ****.
What happened to cuts being accidental,
Something that happened when we fell,
Or messed with a sharp edge?
Why is a ***** someone who is scared,
Rather than being a cat?
What the hell happened to life?
 Jan 2014 Natasya Celia
Love
My love for you is,
Brighter than the sun,
Deeper than the sea,
Broader than the oceans,
Bigger than the universe,
And stronger than your love for her.
can you explain
what it means
to despise someone?
to frame hate
and hang it on your wall
to count the number of days
lost sleep in your coffee mug
with the aforementioned's
name expensively embroidered on it
an old feud, laid in skin
and memories
so long you no longer remember
what the original sin was
only the feeling endures
an anticlimax
that you could go on
and on for hours about
without rest
so much pathos
teeming under the surface
that you could erupt
in volcanic tantrums
at the sound of a name
the way you clench your fists
until your fingers bite blood
from your palms
over street signs that bring up
old memories
the way you dream
of burning chairs
you heard they sat in
you find solace in the fact
that you are conscious
of this pervasive madness
that you are not tired of
and never will be

— The End —