Enter blank screens and
Typed-away feelings
Your dark room and plain face
Are brought to life by a faint,
Familiar pulse of white light
Useless and used to it.
The face in the ***** window,
It's your's but you wish it wasn't
Your reflection dimly responds
With a similar feeling of disgust
You numbly allow your eyes
outside toward the Hearts beating in cars and on bikes
Blood rushing through the veins of the city
But your heart is still
And your veins are empty