DEATH OF THE FILM
No soul wants old in this earth,
no one wants to feel the sand texture
through eyes anymore. Everything
and every made-believe invention
makes the old forgotten.
Leaving your chances to destiny
or waiting a little longer
while hoping that it will come out good
but always burning a few,
do NOT make me renew.
New is the boxed cake,
just tap the button and it will make you one.
A hungry stomach, waiting to consume,
it is easier to numb.
Just capture the real clouds, not the tech.
Unfiltered reality in a sense
once so high in value, sentimental
now only high in price
for no one chooses it
or because of its antiquity.
Is giving up on past this easy?
We are being replaced
by the figures we don’t understand,
another roll reached safely the shelter
what if sun made a visit first?