the flicker of a thin line is a torture
residing in the deep well of my being
waiting to move like a puppet
only the strings are thin yet sticky like a web
black, white, black, white
image in my mind formed like a ghost
appear, gone, appear, gone
slowly i am hypnotized by this untrue thing
to be frightened i can always bend
yet the cursor do not care, no matter what
continues on blinking
sure is predictable but shocking
the waiting article is history
same words, always without meaning
just twisted thoughts of perfection
it will soon be gone
will soon be forgotten
the cursor is the only thing present
Copyright 2009 Micgui
