So young and growing very quickly
On the verge of something grand
Developing techniques so swiftly
3DPrinting, you are a hope for man

For now most people use you simply
To make small items and worthless pleasures
Too lazy to appreciate you
They abuse your power for selfish leisure

Yet others do experiment
They rear you up for something greater
Fuel you with living tissue
Instead of cheap plastic and liquid paper

In Russia already there are mice
Who scurry with their beating hearts
You provided those for them
Replaced are the hearts they were born with

How long will it be now
Before you save human lives
And people marvel
At how whole organs you can provide?

Some people may be lazy
Some won't appreciate you
Others still may fear you
But I, 3DPrinting
See as much potential in you
As there is in the human imagination

How we use you can be our downfall
Or it can bring hope to thousands
It all depends on people
And the intentions we have for you

What is it called
When you look at someone
Who've you've been told
Is the enemy
And you see your mirror image?

What is it called
When you finally read about a man
Who your mother calls a traitor
And your father doesn't speak about
And you realize:
"He's exactly like me"?

What is it called
When you want to say it aloud
You want to join the fight
And discover and shout and protest and create
But you can't
Because your father would be fired
And your mother would disown you?

What is that called?

You look at the world
Through a plate of glass
Beneath your finger
Passing constantly.

I look at the world,
Gazing at you,
While you're gazing elsewhere,
Wasting precious minutes.

On the living room couch,
I asked my phone a verbal question:
"What is an albatross?"

And before it could answer,
my father began his reply
from the kitchen counter--

To be cut short by my phone who had finished thinking,
the screen flashing a series of definitions for "albatross"
and reading them aloud to me.

My father stopped, and looked at me forlornly.

I daren't look back--
And the sound of a heart breaking,
whether mine or his,
and the silence it engulfed,
was hidden under the blanket of the contraption's monotone voice.

A little more humanity was lost today,
and my father yet again was faced with the reality that
even if he had all the answers,
as he had in my inquisitive childhood--

No one was left to ask him the questions.

It's common knowledge that after getting a phone number,
one must wait three whole days before giving a call,
to make sure the interaction remains calculatedly casual,
as opposed to needy or uninterested,
which is complete cupid ****!
It's appalling that one's intense desire to contact an individual one is drawn to,
is not seen as a mere gesture of sentiment or affection,
but rather weakness and vulnerability.
Even in the darkest and drunkest hours
there will be no super likes,
for no one can afford to wear the heart on their sleeves,
in this world of left and right swipes.
The chase is so overrated not only does it never end,
but also overlooks the catch even when it's finally caught.
True feelings disguised by emojis concentrated into 140 characters
ridicule the ideology of love and romance,
when really we're nostalgic of the times,
we once murmured into brick sized cordless phones at wee hours in the morning,
"you hang up... nooo you hang up first..."
When did meeting the parents not become meeting the parents,
but rather the quick show of another chick to flaunt how well life is going at the moment?
When did compartmentalizing life mean pursuing romantic relationships over the weekends only?
When did to love, to want, to need, to show affection become such girly things,
those who are engulfed by romantic comedies and sensitivity did?
All I really want is to call you and tell you how much I miss you,
and just listen to you breath even if you don't have anything to say.
But, I guess I'll just wait for you to whatsapp me sometime during the weekend...

I stumbled into you via modern technology,
Shot out of an atom smasher with endless chances
To spark some debate on space and all that lies between the moon and your window.

I like to believe in the odds of random probability,
Taking extraordinary circumstance and crafting it into friendship,

A testament to innovation, modern socialization,
And classically, it's boy meets girl once again, and she's sitting on a fortune of intellect.

Thinking for yourself has unlimited *** appeal behind it, and you're glowing with charisma.

You're my drug, my very own antidepressant.

I thank every God for the atom smasher that made it possible to collide with you.

A withered old sage had once retold,
How humans used ears and eyes,
Deranged and foolish everyone calls him,
Believe not the fabricated myths and lies.

Radiant was his face when he described thrill and yearning,
The word love made him look enchanted and serene,
As he wistfully told of things foreign and unknown,
To deaf ears and dull eyes turned to screens.

Laugh.
Frown.
****.
Cry.
Die... inside.

Expose your life force.
Destroy your life force.
Please leave your life force in the bin.
You are normal now.
Rejoice, you are happy now.
Bow down, human.

Insert the tubular device into your face.
You will feel a mellow ******* force.
This is normal. It is functional.
Watch a short video to proceed.
Yes... you are amazing.
Press the button to capture your face.
You look fantastic.
See how happy you are...
Human.
You are feeling...
Fantastic.
Human.