Deep in my memory,
My grandma use to tell me a story,
How communication was glory,
Field with joy and like that of an ecstasy.
My grandma use to tell me,
How letters were made solemnly,
How the smell of ink and papers are heavenly,
A paid gate to your partner, friends, or even family.
Right now, communication is free,
Yet, social media is like the waves in the sea,
Breaking and drowning us vigorously,
Separating us from our love ones unconsciously.
I will tell to my future family,
How social media broke me,
How Facebook gave me anxiety,
How Instagram made me shame my body.
I will tell to my future family,
How social media broke me,
How Twitter showed me toxicity,
How Snapchat gave me beauty, fraudulently.
But I want to go back to that memory,
The story that my grandma use to tell me,
Where social media was never a glory,
Where communication is still the key.
BINABASA MO ANG
Her Thoughts
PoetryThey say, "A single soul has million thoughts running inside their mind." And so, these are mine.
