Thursday, June 20, 2013

A Poem About GOOGLE

I fell in love with an old friend.
But I was scared to tell her how I felt.
Her name was so colorful and beautiful.
Like a teenage magician's belt.
When a mutual friend introduced us, I grabbed a blue pen and wrote her address on my hand.
So odd and so simple to remember,
like the name of your favorite band.
We were inseparable. I would talk and talk and ask and ask.
And she loved it.
She was worried that I'd be mad because she never knew any answers.
But she pointed me to all the right people.
All the right places. All the right dancers.
Of course I wasn't mad.
I loved visiting her at home.
Her home was rather empty.
But it wasn't bad.
It's where I asked her things. And sometimes, even made me feel lucky.
So I decided to be brave and asked her, "do you love me?"
And of course, she had no answer.
However, Her friend Wikipedia had asked her as well
"do you love me?"
Saddened and shattered, I asked her how many people had visited her home.
The answer hurt like hell
"Over 2 billion visitors a day"
That Google, motherfucking, slut.

(I still love you, Google)

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