TV on the Radio
My parents worked and were too busy to holdConversations with an active mind, still growing,
And so they placed my ass in front of you.
Called it a day. I thought it a blessing
Because you were a box of knowledge. Of fun.
Within you were bright colors, fantastic stories,
And a friend who never listened only shared
Everything needed to idle a whole day away
Or a week, or a life, but I realized soon enough
I needed someone who would listen to me.
Someone I could talk to. So I turned you off
And never looked back. I mean, mostly.
I pass you by every now and then and think
Of the glory days, when nothing else mattered
But the numbers on the clock that dictated
What you would be showing. You were my life.
My schedule tied to yours. But now? Who’re you?
A box I pass by. Cold to the touch. The screen off.
What once showed bright colors and fantastic stories
Now only reflects my face. But it’s nice to see me.
Poetry by Sameen
Written on 2025-12-30 at 16:40
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