There is no losing in writing – a late-night poem

I stare at my typewriter and it stares back at me

As I wonder about customs past

and the relative irrelevancy of the modern-day writer;

Random late-night thoughts typed in a computer that blew typewriting away,

the same way the writer as we know it

might one day cease to exist;

Attention spans span shorter by the second

Urging the artist to adapt;

Like a chameleon,

Faking colours before the ever-changing backgrounds.

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