the blue light glows in innocent eyes.
its blinding but so warm,
when there’s no other warmth for this broken child
except the heating of her laptop.
maybe it would burn holes through her thighs,
and the bright screen will burn holes through her eyes,Â
since her sight would someday suffer.
it’s not her fault she was raised by blue light and a loud keyboard.
it’s the only warmth,
if warmth at all,
that brings her to smile.
she was raised by the internet.
the only friends she had were just like her,
broken children,
fostered by a computer screen.
where are their parents?
just beyond the bedroom door,
locked and keeping broken children in hiding.