A step forward, death's waiting;
knowing this, tries to go back.
it's a gray arrow sign pointing right.
no use.
wandering around now
thinking and recalling
like pressing the history at the left corner.
scrolling up and down,
i remember:
14th of january.
and
the little blue star.
i feel alone without you.
feeling this situation is like being on a battlefield.
no. that's not right.
who erased my bookmarks?
and since march i arrived here.
why january?
blue star only means bookmarked page
and the important page in my journal..
i am in maze.
the way is forward, but cannot press that left arrow button.
need to search in google, but too many paths
up to 864,000,000 results (1.12 seconds).
i wonder how much results'll show up in an hour?
zzz
Points:
Time spent:
IP address:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
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140,693 Literary Works • 673,622 Reviews
I may be wrong but I have to admit I laughed a little when I read this. Something about the hyperbolic nature of the language in stark contrast to the mundanity of the situation commands the reader's attention. I also felt that the lack of capitalization flowed well with the internet search subject matter (though subject matter makes this seem more like an essay than a poem sorry.)
It feels like a diary page or some scribbling in a a notebook. I think everyone knows the feeling of losing all our bookmarks and having to start all over again, trying to google some important thing with minimal recollection of how the title went, and ending up with too many results. It's a sad story about not being able to find something important that you lost, and how easily something posted online can be quickly sucked up into the giant sea of information, and when the bookmarks are gone, you may never be able to get it back. It highlights how easy it is to lose things in the age of technology.
Yeah, it is a sad story, but it is not the end of it.