A Poem

We used to read.

We used to write,

we used to breathe,

we used to measure

the light so carefully,

with our focused eyes,

no wayward glance to tear us

away from our moments.

Chop it, cut it, slice it up.

Don’t waste my time.

Entertain me.

I'll give it five seconds, then I'm gone.

What a hellish prison,

who ever made this decision

to live life in five second

increments? What a small cell

to serve our life sentence.

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