Emotions are cast before blinded eyes,
To stand before the final test of time.
Will our future look on us and despise,
One hundred forty characters of rhyme?
Jaded words cast into the endless sea,
Or three words said behind a glowing screen,
Generations look back with shame and see,
Romantic nothings not one soul did mean.
The birthing of passion is all but gone,
And often are we caught up, bound, and tied,
Trading away for screens our forlorn dawn,
Lost in the sea, in the black, raging tide.
So our time shall be remembered as thus,
One hundred forty characters killed us.