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July 30, 2013
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He spoke with a
thousand year old voice.
It said, “Hello.
How are you?
Thank you.
Have a nice day.”

He spoke with a
thousand year old voice
and it decayed,
as most old things do.
The words sunk into
the ground, and
became garbled iterations
of themselves.

They said, “Hey.
How’r’yuh?
Thakuh.
Hafa nice day.”
Before long these words
sunk further into
the ground.
and they sounded
nothing like their originals.

“Heh.
Arya
Anya.
Aaaniday.”
And soon, they were too
deep to be recognizable.

“Aa.
Aaaa.
Aaa aa.
Aaaaaaa.”

He spoke with a
thousand year old voice.
It was too old.
...
:iconmalintra-shadowmoon:
Malintra-Shadowmoon Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist

The ability of communication is getting lost in society because of other existing means. Traditions are given up replaced by something new. It could either be a regression or even a progress. That depends.

 

It is good when with some of oldfashioned habits can be broken but it is a pity to lose mutual communication and comprehension.

 

Very interesting kind of poem, very strongly displayed in all its struggling agony. Keep on writing thought inducing things.

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:iconshehrozeameen:
shehrozeameen Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
This is one of those few moments when I know that the words being spoken are resonating with a very strong message. That of decay in society and in people generally. Its a regression which is definitely felt. This concept of isolation is what makes this poem interesting.

Its like a communication breakdown that will occur only because no one is going to stop it from happening. 
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