We are the still,
the quiet moaners,
the victims of a virus
that we made.
We are the hopelessly lost,
the fault of our own technology,
the curse of our generation
whom was so poorly raised.
We are the lifeless victims of
technology, the victims of games,
computers, televisions and religion.
We are the human race.
The creaters of this very
downfall. Welcome to the
Hoard. Enjoy your stay, or,
better yet, never show your
face again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hmmm? ? ? ? ..... no one has commented on such a poem? ..... oh well..... glad I came across it... 10/10 friend.... nicely writeen... i can relate a bit.