 |
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
Friends Without Faces
|
| by Thomas Teague |
| |
We sit and we type, and we stare at our screens,
We all have to wonder, what this possibly means.
With our mouse we roam, through the rooms in a maze,
Looking for something or someone, as we sit in a daze.
We chat with each other, we type all our woes,
Small groups we do form, and gang up on our foes.
We wait for somebody, to type out our name,
We want
recognition, but it is always the same.
We give
kisses and hugs, and sometimes flirt,
In IMs we chat
deeply, and reveal why we hurt.
We do form friendships
- but - why we don't know,
But some of these friendships,
will flourish and grow.
Why is it on screen,
we can be so bold,
Telling our secrets, that have
never been told.
Why is it we share, the thoughts
in our mind,
With those we can't see, as though we
were blind.
The answer is simple, it is as clear
as a bell.
We all have our problems, and need someone
to tell.
We can't tell "real" people, but tell someone
we must,
So we turn to the 'puter, and to those we
can trust.
Even though it is crazy, the truth
still remains,
They are Friends Without Faces, and
odd little names. |
|
| |
| Email
This Poem to a Friend |
|
Bookmark This Page |
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
The copyrights of all poems on this website belong to the individual authors.
Website Copyright 2000 - 2010 Ellen Bailey Poems |
| |