[2004-06-29]_3:27 a.m.
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Typing is much different than the old style
My hand writing put forth
More emotion
Feeling the paper through the device
The weigh in which I pushed down with every
Stroke
Not hard enough
To let out all
That has built up
That I have collected over the years
Nothing being my release
Long enough to satisfy
Or short enough to distract
My eyes no longer care
My heart no longer beats
I have become a drone
The person we never want to become
But somehow
Have been trained to emmulate
It seems that there might just be that light
At the end of the tunnel
But its not something in which you
Would ever want to see.