The silent youth,
Never speaking a word,
Jumping at movements, not sound,
And looking constantly glum,
Looking (forever) dumfounded-
When spoken to out loud.
Just machines- wired and programmed,
Technology as much part of Them
As to us are fingers and toes.
They are the generation with plugs-
In ears, mobile blocks in hands,
And live as the television watch Their eyes.
Now the generation of youth,
Silent to Our real life,
But leaders in the theirs, for,
We are not part of the Next…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wee Harry forbid I should live to see it, however, good write Mel. Love, Jez