The ones on the other side of the screen

I wish he paid me as much attention as he did his pc.

The blue and green lights shining from the screen. 

As his eyes buried in the screen for hours, maybe days at a time. 

I wish he gazed at me for that long, but he can’t even hold eye contact nor conversation.

All though, I just want his gaze or want him to look at something I've done.

I just want his attention, but instead I get the orientation.

They get the concept because they steal the regard.

The ones on the other side of the screen.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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