Currently I sitting on a wooden bench,
In the midst of culture's quench,
I witness various cultures, which have come to converge,
But there is one aspect that has come to emerge,
And that aspect a change to society, an alteration, it may be called,
The average child's intelligence is something because of it has stalled,
In our ears, and in front our faces,
Are we blind and are we deaf for there be no more spaces?
An age of technology, oh how it undeniable it be,
And even this poem being typed with my iPod by me,
From the replacement of our culture to discussions being uprooted by the internet,
Is there no longer a way for people to be met?
No in fact, another dimension out there still exists,
It is called real life, oh what a twist,
It renders as our freedom from electricity and the hot fans and irritating bright screens,
All the magic lost, and all the charisma depleted,